


Ain't Gonna Drown

by themonkeycabal



Series: Run 'Verse [14]
Category: Captain America, Iron Man - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor - Fandom
Genre: Darcy Lewis is Tony Stark's Daughter, Gen, The Winter Soldier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 102,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3519683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themonkeycabal/pseuds/themonkeycabal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shady meetings with terrifying assassins? A pretty standard Tuesday for Darcy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Untitled for now, because I could not for the life of me come up with anything.

SHIELD fell, and fell further still. The shockwave of the collapse shook the globe, cracking the fragile human currency of trust. Governments shuddered, treaties shattered, long-serving officials were implicated in SHIELD's crimes. 

The few remaining agents, loyal to SHIELD's nobler ideals, were hounded and hunted, shunned and damned. They slipped off the grid and into a precarious twilight network of shady deals, shadier allies, and grinding uncertainty. In hiding they struggled to rebuild the shattered foundations of their agency, while also engaged in a brutal shadow war with the remnants of their dark twin, Hydra. 

For two weeks, Darcy stayed with Coulson and his team, helping where she could, filling in for all the agents who'd left, or died, or been injured. There was plenty of work to be had, and not just on technical matters. Keeping up morale was a full time job all its own. 

Maybe morale was a self-assigned task, but the heavy pall of depression and desperation were too much for her to take. They were feelings — awkward, uncomfortable feelings and she was desperate to thin the heaviness. If it hadn't been for Trip and the Koenigs (she honestly lost count of how many of them there were, but they were competent, jovial sorts, and plenty entertaining) helping keep things, if not light, at least somewhere above doom and gloom, Darcy might have been dealt her first, true SHIELD failure. 

A few new-old agents turned up here and there, including a team lead by Agent Isabelle Hartley. They did not, exactly, get off on the right foot. Hartley's team seemed cut from that cynical, hard-bitten, world-weary spy cloth, and Darcy was most emphatically not. In fact, that sort of thing got under her skin, it made her bristly. She went out of her way to poke at Clint when he tried it. Hartley was not somebody to poke, evidently. Strike one. 

The close quarters did not breed an easy friendship. Or even much of a civil working atmosphere. Darcy was not one to back down, and neither was Hartley. A few other moments of not quite being on the same page about most things followed, which led to a minor dust-up where Hartley accused Darcy of not taking things seriously enough, to which Darcy replied that she took things exactly as seriously as they deserved. Strike two. 

May broke it up before Darcy's third strike, sent a weird frosty look Hartley's way, and took Darcy down to run through maintenance checks on the Bus.

"Personality conflicts happen," May observed sagely. "You've got to learn to work around them."

Darcy yanked the maintenance clipboard off its peg with an irritated snap. "I was working just fine, thank you very much."

"You stepped wrong with Hartley. It happens, get over it."

Darcy turned and gaped at the other woman. "I stepped wrong? Me?"

May let out an impatient breath and gave Darcy a narrow-eyed look. "Personality conflict," she pronounced, biting off each word. "She stepped wrong with you, too. Steer clear of each other."

"Fine."

"Good." May pointed at the plane. "Focus."

Darcy glared down at the clipboard and pulled the pen out of the clip. "I feel like I've been grounded."

"I feel like you need to run those checks and cool off."

Darcy opened her mouth to argue back, but nothing came to her. She shrugged. "You're probably right."

May smirked. "I usually am."

Tony left her alone for a few days, but as the first week turned into a second, his phone calls and texts started coming in closer and closer together. When he asked her opinion on the fire suppression systems in the Avengers' common rooms, she knew it was time to go home to New York. Coulson agreed, though not because he was desperately worried about the fire safety of the Tower. The military were hunting them all, and they'd gotten too close a time or two. He needed her to stay out and stay free.

So off she went, back to New York, and into a winter that was quickly turning dark and biting, with a thick crust of gray snow and grimy slush already covering everything, Darcy was more than happy to spend the next month hiding in the Tower. She spent her days dodging process servers, wandering from lab to lab, and working with one of Pepper's handpicked lawyers on her statement for the Intelligence Committee's inquiry into SHIELD's collapse. 

Despite the initial handshake agreement with the government, Stark Industries moved ahead with its misuse of proprietary technology and breach of contract suit against the Defense Department. It was both a CYA move to get something solid in writing, and, well, had a lot to do with the fact that Tony was still far too hot about the helicarriers to let things go easily. For a few days the situation teetered dangerously, and it felt like the country was about to become the United States of Stark Industries. 

Fortunately, some form of sanity prevailed, and Defense brought a settlement to the table that didn't leave Tony hissing and spitting like an angry cat. They agreed to Pepper's stipulations of oversight and control — an umbrella broad enough that she was able to cover Tony and Hill's private SHIELD startup — and in exchange, the federal government absolved SI and Tony of all culpability in SHIELD/Hydra's use of SI technology and of any property damage that resulted. 

With the agreement's official signing, and feeling that she had fallback options (and a place to hide under that giant umbrella), Darcy finally accepted her summons to the Defense hearings on Capitol Hill. Then she dove into a solid week of grilling and coaching from the lawyer, that left her feeling prepared but panicky. Her life was full of secrets, and if the friendly lawyer who was trying to help her could dig and pry and start to make some notable scratches in the surface of those things, were the Feds going to take a backhoe to her life? A little panic was warranted. 

Finally, the day of her deposition came, and though the hearing was three hours long, it turned out to be almost disappointingly anticlimactic. Darcy said "I don't know" a lot, which tended to be actually true and made it easier to avoid extreme perjury. Though, there was only so far she could walk the line and still do as Phil instructed. With a silent apology to the skies, she disavowed SHIELD, then stated her intention of returning to being a lowly lab assistant. 

The recess before the Committee would announce their decision was the worst part, honestly. Darcy fidgeted and twitched the whole time, despite her lawyer's whispered promises that it would all be fine. When they got around to reconvening — apparently they'd only been out for thirty minutes, but it felt interminable — the Committee cleared her of any wrong-doing, officially released her from SHIELD, thanked her for her testimony and service, and … that was it. She walked out a free, slightly dazed, non-terrorist. 

Of course, not even even an official government pat on the head and get-out-of-jail-free card made her SHIELD history entirely vanish. About a month after the hearing, newly minted Brigadier General Talbot and his douchestache tried to grab her off the streets. If he hadn't had six armed and camo-clad SpecOps dudes with him, she would have tased the ever-loving-hell out of him. She almost did it anyway, just on principle. 

Darcy knew who Talbot was, alright. Phil'd mentioned him a time or six, and she only had to turn on the TV to see him enjoying his fifteen minutes of puffed up chest-thumping and firm promises to rid the country of the last of the SHIELD terrorists. The fact that she'd been cleared didn't seem to matter all that much to him. Oh, it's fine, he said. She wasn't in trouble, he assured her. He just wanted to _talk_. 

It was insulting that he thought she was stupid enough to buy the crap he was selling. Her hand twitched towards her taser again, but Talbot just smirked and the SpecOps dudes all made a point of squaring their shoulders and dropping their hands to their side-arms. So, plan B. Playing to her strengths, and the fact that Talbot chose to approach her in public, in the middle of the city, Darcy made a scene worthy of the best Oscar-bait melodrama, then called Jane, who called Thor, who showed up five minutes later. 

Dropping out of the sky like a tempest of righteous fury, Thor more than lived up to his billing as the God of Thunder, and the SpecOps guys backed up, though the General held his ground and tried to stare down the towering Asgardian — Talbot had a spine, she'd give him that. However, despite Talbot's own bluster, a threatening clap of thunder tore through the clear, winter-brittle sky, putting a hair-raising and awesome end to the confrontation. Darcy laughed so hard Thor had to help her walk back to the Tower (or rather, he tucked her under his arm like a favorite stuffed animal until she insisted she could manage on her own). 

Things went quiet-ish after that. Nothing was ever truly quiet with a superhero father, the ex-deputy director of a disgraced spy agency (who'd decided she and Darcy were now best buds — which freaked Darcy out more than anything else that had ever happened to her before in her whole and entire life), a Norse god, a pair of hyper-intense astrophysicists, and one self-deprecating particle physicist with anger issues. But, sort of low-key. For them, anyway. 

The winter, however, was determined to test the limits of how long their low-key could last. They might be living in a giant skyscraper, but the weather still kept her trapped inside, and a dash of cabin fever was starting to gnaw at them all. Darcy finally asked Thor if he thought maybe Ragnarok had come early. It hadn't, he promised, though he did admit the thin light of the cold, blue days, strongly reminded him of Jötunheim. Then they both went to the windows and stared out, looking for Frost Giants. Well, she was looking for Frost Giants; who knew what Thor was looking for.

Her reprieve from the months of stress came with a phone call from her brother, and a plea to join him at home for an early spring break; his winter semester project having ended early. Darcy jumped at the chance to run away to sunny California for a couple of weeks with her sane family. 

Unfortunately for Sam, she never claimed to be the sane member of the sane family. 

"Damn it, Lewis, did you just—"

"Yes, I did. Suck it, Lewis," Darcy crowed at her brother in glee.

"That's it, I'm done," Sam snarled, gripping his controller hard enough she could hear the plastic squeal. 

"Quitting? Aww, poor baby." She gave him a mock pout and laughed.

"Oh no, I'm done being nice," he shot back. 

"I will end you," Darcy pronounced grandly. "I will break your bones, bind your soul to the depths of hell, and then—"

"Wait!" Sam cried, tapping at the buttons in harrowing desperation. "No! How did that happen? What the hell, Darcy?"

Darcy continued, enjoying herself far too much and deep in the mockery zone. "And then I will make you weep for every decision you've ever made in your life that led you to this moment."

"My engines blew up?" Sam squawked, outraged. "How the fuck, Darce? Did you— are you cheating?"

"And then, with your last breath, as you choke on your own blood and regrets—"

"Darcy, come on. You have to be cheating. Stop it," Sam whined, thumbs flying in panic over the face of the controller. 

"You will know that your God has abandoned you, and you got your ass handed to you by your sister." Darcy tapped at the buttons with dramatic flair, before tossing her controller onto the coffee table and, with the sound of the victory music, she raised her hands to the sky. "And I bathe in your tears! Revel in your anguish! I will grave my triumphs upon the stoniest peaks that generations to come will know my glory!"

Sam threw down his controller next to his sister's and sat back, glaring sourly at her. "This is why nobody wants to play video games with you."

"Just remember," she said with an evil smirk, "this suffering you brought upon yourself."

"For agreeing to play with you," Sam grumped.

"Writhe, writhe, little brother. Writhe in the agonizing, bitter knowledge of your failures."

"You are the worst. Also, you need to stop hanging out with Thor," Sam shoved at Darcy's shoulder. 

"What?" She asked, finally breaking from her grand pronouncements of triumph. "I can't be flowery and poetic on my own?"

"It's increased by like a thousand since he's stuck around."

"He does have a way with words," Darcy acknowledged with another laugh, while Sam just glared. 

The ringing of Darcy's phone spared Sam from another round of gloating. Frowning at the generic ringtone, Darcy picked up the phone and puzzled over the unknown number — it was an L.A. area code, and while first instinct would say 'wrong number', considering her own number was now a New York 646, the odds seemed slim. 

"Thank God," Sam groaned. "Though, if it's Tony, tell him it's not a Nippleosaurus."

Darcy glanced over at him with a skeptical frown. "Nippleosaurus?"

"Linhenykus Monodactylus. They're fingers! Not nipples!"

Shaking her head, Darcy answered the phone. "Hello?"

There was a beat of silence before a low voice responded, "I'm calling for the lady who fell on a grenade for me."

Darcy sat up straight, eyes wide, shocked. Coulson and Natasha telling her he'd call was one thing, but she never entirely believed it. "Bucky?"

"Bucky?" Sam echoed.

Darcy waved him off and stood, walking quickly to the front door and stepping out onto the porch, closing the door firmly behind her, shutting out Sam. 

"Bucky?" She asked again.

"Yeah, I guess."

Letting out a long breath, Darcy found herself smiling a little. "Well, that's a step up from 'I don't know'."

He made a weird wheezing, rusty sound that might have been laughter. "I guess," he said again.

"So … what do you need?" That sounded abrupt, even in her own head and she winced. She was supposed to be assuring him he was her priority, not sounding like he was an irritating interruption. She tried again, "Not that I'm not, you know, happy to hear from you. How are you? How's things? Blow up anything fun lately? See any good movies? How about them Angels?"

He maybe laughed again. "I'm … okay, I guess."

"You didn't go back to Hydra, I'm assuming. So, win."

"I guess."

Frowning, she cocked her head to one side and asked, "Is this the new game we're playing?"

"No."

"What can I do for you?"

"Tell Steve to stop looking for me."

"Sure."

"That easy?"

Darcy snorted. "I'll tell him, sure. I mean, it's hilarious how you think he'll listen to me about this, but, yeah, I'll totally tell him."

Bucky let out a long breath, half sigh, half exasperation. "I figured I'd try."

"Tell him yourself. I'll give you his number. I don't actually know where he is right now, but I don't think he's in California. It'd take him a few hours to get here. You'd have a good head start."

There was another moment of silence and Darcy shifted her feet, feeling anxious, not ready to lose the connection to him, and feeling like she was botching this whole thing. Build the trust, Phil said. Sure, Phil, you build the freaking trust with the skittish POW-slash-mind-controlled-assassin. Where to even begin?

"Was he angry?" Bucky asked at last.

"With me, not you," she told him lightly. Steve was still a little ticked, and, frankly, so was she. Promises to Coulson to mend the relationship aside, the subject of her meeting with Bucky was a touchy one. They'd come back from it, somewhat, but with Steve off on his hunt, and Darcy juggling three insane jobs, they hadn't had much chance to clear the air in person. Though they'd reached a silent agreement to shelve the topic for the moment, it still wrapped around all their conversations like a wicked, thorny brier. 

"Should I apologize?"

"Nah. I knew it was coming when I talked to you instead of calling him."

"Why did you?"

"Because you're his friend, I told you."

"Can we meet?"

Maybe she hadn't entirely made a mess yet. She snatched at the chance without hesitation, "Sure, where?"

"Hollywood, there's an observatory—"

"Griffith Park," Darcy confirmed with a nod. 

"Yeah. Two hours?"

"Alright. Should I bring anything? You need money? I know how much super soldiers eat, I assume super assassins are bottomless pits, too."

"No, it's fine."

"If you're sure."

"Don't tell him."

She groaned. It might be a sore spot, but she still couldn't keep this from Steve. "I'll have to tell him eventually. Can we just go with a standing 24 hour rule?"

"Fine. Another grenade?"

"Builds character. Probably."

He sort of laughed again, a dry chuckle that he seemed to almost choke on. "Two hours."

"Oh, hey," she called out before he could disconnect, "can you give me a sign here that this isn't a trap? I'm not saying I think it is, but other people get touchy when I agree to shady meetings with assassins. I don't know why, I mean, hell, this is practically a regular Tuesday for me."

There was a beat of silence and then she heard the curiosity in his voice when he asked, "What do you do on Mondays?"

"Try to keep super geniuses from ripping apart the fabric of reality."

"Busy lady."

"My week, so booked. Though intergalactic diplomacy Thursdays are a rockin' good time."

"Fun," he said with a flatness that suggested he might have regretted asking. "It's not a trap. I could take you now."

Darcy froze and felt a chill slip down her spine. Forcing herself to continue to sound light and unperturbed, she dropped her voice into a husky, impertinent growl, "Sexy, but I have to draw the line — no taking with my little brother in the house."

"Understood. And you have my word."

"Good enough. And I promise not to call in reinforcements."

"Two hours. I'll find you."

He ended the call and Darcy stood on the porch for a few long minutes, staring across the street, wondering if she'd catch a glimpse of lurking assassins behind Mr. Moore's bushes. There was no way on Earth she'd see him if he didn't want to be seen, and she tried not to think about how he'd found her. Introducing herself as Stark, not Lewis, had been a way to try to connect with him, but also a way to put some distance between the dark world of assassins and the evil men who used them and the people she loved. She really didn't like this coming to her family home. 

Dear God, let him be at least a little Bucky still. 

"Bucky?"

Darcy slumped at her brother's voice. "Just some dude I met in DC."

"Called Bucky, right." Sam huffed, sounding irritated. "I remember when we were kids, you used to let me play him sometimes."

She laughed and tried to bluff. "Bucky Barnes? Come on, it's been 70 years."

"Yeah, and then you brought Captain America home for Thanksgiving."

"But, Steve was on ice for that whole time," she countered. 

He raised an eyebrow, and crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall, body language declaring loudly that he didn't buy a word of her bull. "And yesterday I answered your phone and talked to an actual Norse god, so …"

Darcy squinted at him, watching his face for a long moment. "Say nothing."

Expression falling into a confused frown, Sam rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "I thought he died."

"So did everybody. I'm serious, Sam. Check the serious face here. Say nothing," she warned darkly. 

He blinked and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I see the face." Biting his lips, his face changed from confused to concerned. "It's really him? How did you meet Bucky Barnes?"

"It doesn't matter," Darcy said with a shrug.

"Come on, Darce, don't be like this," he exclaimed with an exasperated groan. Narrowing her eyes, she considered him for a moment. He always insisted he wanted to know, but then got weirded out and pissy when she told him things. This was such a fragile situation, she couldn't risk him running his mouth to somebody else. Somebody like Tony maybe, or God help her, Steve.

"You remember how he was captured during the war?" She asked. 

Sam brushed his scraggly curls out of his face as he thought. "Uh, yeah, with the 107th? Cap broke 'em out."

"Right, yeah, well, he was experimented on before Steve got there."

Sam winced and looked a little pale. "Geez. Was he in a glacier, too?"

"Not exactly. Let's just say Hydra kept him on ice."

Pushing himself off the wall, Sam's eyes widened in fear and panic. "Hydra? Darce, what are you doing?"

"It's complicated. And, screw you, I'm not Hydra. And neither is he. They just used him."

"I didn't mean, I just …," he waved around a flustered hand, and brushed at his curls again — his deep anxiety tell. "Used him to do what?"

"Nothing I'm going to talk to you about."

Setting his jaw, he glared at her. "Why's he calling you?"

"Because I met him in DC, and he needs a friend, okay?"

"No, no, not okay."

"Wow," she breathed out and felt her nostrils flare in irritation. "I don't need your permission to do my job."

"Your job?" He threw his hands up, aggravated. "But, you're out. SHIELD is gone. You're back in the lab with— you're not, are you? Oh my God, are you running some sort of underground SHIELD thing?"

Darcy waved a hand, scoffing. "SHIELD might be gone, but the Avengers aren't."

"He's not an Avenger."

"He's Steve's friend, and he won't call Steve, so that makes him my job." She pushed past him, nudging him aside none too gently, and walked into the house. 

He followed her, dogged and silent, as she headed into her room, looking for a box she'd kept with her since she met with Coulson. She might not have believed Bucky would call her, but she tried to be prepared. She found the box in her luggage and turned, surprised when she bumped into her brother. "Look, I've got to go. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Where are you going? You're not meeting him, are you?"

"None of your business," she tossed over her shoulder as she headed back to the living room searching for her bag. "I'm sorry this came to the house, but, yeah, still not your business. Stay out of it, Sam."

"But, should you go alone? You shouldn't go alone. I can come with you. Maybe you should call Tony."

"Jesus, no." Darcy scooped up her bag from the floor and dug through it for her keys, and once they were found, she dropped the box in and shoved her phone into her pocket. Mentally running through a list of things she needed, she nodded to herself and tried to leave, but Sam blocked her way.

"I think you should," Sam said, persistent as only little brothers could be. 

Darcy growled, "Call Tony and die."

Sam pursed his lips unhappily. "What did Hydra do to him?"

Shrugging off the question, she slung her bag across her body and crossed her arms, glaring at him. It was hard when he was nearly a foot taller than her. When the hell had he gotten so tall? Still, she had a lifetime of practice. He grimaced and looked away. "I think you should remember I'm a trained, scary, black ops agent."

Scoffing dismissively, he said, "How many times have you told mom and dad you're just a babysitter?"

"A babysitter trained by the Black Widow and Hawkeye." She'd never told him that and she enjoyed watching his eyes widen. Smirking, she brushed past him again, headed for the door.

"But, you're not the Black Widow," Sam called, catching the strap of her bag. 

Turning back around to face him, she tried to reassure him. "And for this I don't need to be."

"But you said Hydra did stuff to him," he argued. "What if they're still using him?"

"They're not."

"How do you know?"

"Sweet baby Thor, Sam! I just know, okay. You've got to trust me on this. This is what I do."

Eyes wide with panic again. "Please, let me come with you. I'll stay in the car, I promise. But, if it looks like there's trouble, I can call Tony."

"No."

"I'll follow you," he warned.

"I will ditch you by Azusa," she assured him with an unconcerned shrug. "Stay out of this."

"Come on—"

"Bucky is not going to do anything to me. Except maybe frustrate me. It's hell having a conversation with him. Look, it's in public, in the middle of the day." Not that that would really stop the Winter Soldier, but Sam didn't need to know that. 

Relaxing a little, Sam nodded, but still looked unhappy. "Okay."

"I'm serious about not calling Tony. If you do that, that'll be unforgivable, do you understand?" She poked him in the chest with her finger. "I'm not joking. I want Barnes to come home; if you bust this for me, I will bust you."

Sam rubbed at his chest and scowled. "I get it."

"I need him to trust me. Don't make me a liar."

Nodding, Sam looked away from her. "Fine."

"This is actual spy stuff," she pressed. He needed to really, truly understand this. "You need to listen to me. If you don't, people could get hurt. Actual people, actually hurt."

Grinding his teeth he nodded jerkily. "I got it. But, if you're not home by the time mom and dad get back from work—"

"Then I'm stuck in traffic. I'll call."

"If you don't, I will call Tony," he tipped his chin up, stubborn.

Darcy knew her brother well enough to know he could and would follow through on the threat. Glancing at her clock, she calculated the time it would take to get to the observatory, the time it would take to get back, and padded in an hour for whatever Bucky wanted. It would be close. 

Sighing, she relented. A little. "Okay, here's the deal. I'll call you when I'm on my way back home, if I'm in trouble or something I'll tell you I'll be late because I need to run an errand for my dad. Play along, then call Tony when I hang up. Got it?"

Sam looked relieved and resolved. "Yeah."

"If I need to do something else, I'll just tell you. Errand for dad is the 'send in the reinforcements' phrase. Nothing else. Or, well, unless I yell something like 'oh my God, call Iron Man.' Then, yeah, do that."

Given the sense of security in having something to do in case of trouble, Sam turned mulish again. "Are you going to tell Steve you're palling around with his best friend?"

"Not that it's any of your business — because guess what? It's still not — but, Bucky and I have an understanding that I don't keep this from Steve. Again, stay out of it."

The fight went out of Sam, but he still looked unhappy. "Fine."

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Hey, if it makes you feel better, you're not the only person disappointed in my life choices."

"Not really," he grumbled irritably. "I don't get your life."

"Guess it's a good thing it's my life and not yours."

"Don't be a jerk," Sam grumbled. 

Darcy fired back with a terse, "Shove the judgement, then."

"Whatever." Sam stomped back over to the couch and dropped like a guy-shaped boulder to the cushions, picking up his controller again, glaring at the TV screen. 

"The world's a Goddamned mess right now," she waved her hands at him. "Somebody has to try and fix it."

"Why you?"

"Because—"

"Because," he echoed in a mocking tone. "Great."

"Because I said I would. SHIELD may be a disaster, but the world still needs it. Still needs people to deal with the big, heavy crap."

"Yeah, SHIELD was so awesome."

"What it was, maybe not, but the idea of it, the reason Howard helped found it, it's important. I have a responsibility, and I'm going to see this through."

Sam didn't reply, just started a new game, filling the room with tinny music and the roar of digital engines. Darcy flipped him off and left him to his pouting.

It took about five miles for Darcy to cool off. There was a reason she didn't tell her family about 90% of her life. Sometimes she wondered if she was a coward, wanting only to avoid dealing with their concerns and their fears. Other times, she knew it was simply better this way. She was going to do what she was going to do, whether they approved or not, and she couldn't spend her energy fighting out from under their smothering worry. There were not enough hours in the day to try and reassure them that she knew what she was doing. 

Traffic at mid-day, post-lunch, pre-early rush hour wasn't terrible and she took some time to make a couple of stops before pulling into the observatory's parking lot. Getting out, she wandered towards the building, and paused to take in the haze-shrouded city below. With a deep breath of warm spring air, she reminded herself that, yes, this was her job. She'd made promises — to herself, if nothing else. 

Finding a bench, she sat, stretching her legs out, and reveling in the Southern California sun. It might not have been Ragnarok, but it was still cold as hell in New York and the novelty of snow had long worn off. 

Bucky joined her about five minutes later, being good enough to walk up where she could watch him approach. He'd swapped the skeevy unibomber look for slightly less skeevy long-sleeved t-shirt with a faded Dodgers logo and a Dodgers ball cap. 

"The Dodgers, really?" She called out when he was close enough. "I don't think we can be friends anymore."

He smiled a little. It looked more natural than the last time he'd tried. "You're breaking my heart, doll."

"Your heart? What about mine? I had such high hopes for you, Barnes."

Taking his seat next to her, he watched her for a moment with those icy blue eyes. She was relieved to see some of the aching emptiness had faded. Not a lot of it, but enough that there was life in his face again. 

"Did you call Steve?"

"Every time? Come on," Darcy groaned. "No, I didn't call Steve. If I give you my word, I'll always do my best to keep it, okay?"

"Okay." He nodded and looked away, out over the park. "You'll call him tomorrow."

"Yeah. Who knows how he'll take it this time."

"Sorry."

"Make it up to me by coming home some day."

He was silent for a few second before quietly muttering, "I don't have a home."

Darcy sighed. "Not to deny you your well-earned angst, but you do. You've got Steve. You've got me. Maybe it's not a lot, but you've got it anyway."

He let out a long breath and gave her a look that bordered on impatience. 

"What? I get that you probably don't remember, but that doesn't make it untrue. Besides, I'm awesome. You're lucky to have me." She sniffed and sank back on the unforgiving wooden bench. Maybe someday they'd meet someplace with actually comfortable furniture. Then following Phil's example of giving a little of himself, she told him, "I've got a best friend. If he lost himself, if he forgot everything, I'd hope he'd somehow know he could always come home to me. And, pal, I'd search the whole world for him."

"What's his name? Your friend?"

"Rico."

Nodding to himself, Bucky leaned back next to her. "I think I found where they had me."

"You didn't remember where you were?"

"Not really. I remember the inside, but not the outside. They'd … before they'd send me out, they'd … they'd run the program. It fades. That's why they kept doing it." He closed his eyes, face creased in pain. "Again and again and again. Every time I'd go in, every time I'd go out. Again and again."

Darcy felt sick, and then she felt angry. Like more pissed off than she could ever remember feeling. It rivaled her feelings when she'd discovered Obadiah's betrayal. Standing up from the bench, she paced in front of him, her hands clenching and unclenching in helpless rage. He watched her, his face blank. 

When she'd burned off some of the anger, she turned back to him. "What do you need? Explosives? I can get you explosives. I can get you a hell of a lot of explosives. I can get you a freaking tank. Blow the hell out of that place. Or, you know, I've got a Norse god, if you're feeling more Wagnerian."

"I don't know," he said with a small shrug, looking away from her. "I don't want to go back." Taking a rough breath, he licked his lips. "I don't want to go back until I know whatever made me go back to them is gone. I can't—" Glancing up at her, his eyes mournful and pleading. "I can't."

"Then don't. It's fine," she said quickly, reassuring him as well as she could. "Save it for later. It'll be cleansing when you're ready. I'm sure. Maybe. Hell, I'd feel better." Spinning around, she dropped back onto the bench. "I can give Steve the location if you'd rather he did it."

"No, it's mine. But, I have other information." Digging into the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a thumb drive. He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head and handed it over. It was a struggle for him, but she found the small show of trust heartening. "Give it to Steve. Or your pops, or whoever."

"Will do. Thank you." She shoved the drive into her own pocket. "And I have something for you."

"I don't need—"

"Whatever," she cut him off with an off-handed wave and pulled her bag into her lap. "Humor me."

He grunted but sounded amused. "Sure thing, doll."

"Normally, I don't appreciate the pet names from dudes I barely know, but you make it work. No real urge to punch you in the face. Go figure," she said with a shrug. He laughed that sad, rusty half-laugh of his. 

Pulling out a thick envelope, she handed it to him with a small, warning glare. "Money. Just take it. Don't argue."

He took the envelope and set it next to him. "Must be nice to be loaded."

"Clearly, it can be useful." 

Next she pulled the matte black box from her bag. Slipping off the lid, she plucked out the device within. "Okay, Starkphone." Turning it on, she selected the network settings and showed it to him. "Untraceable. It'll network hop to mask usage. You only need to give it a second to find a network to crack into, and once there, you're good to go. Also, encrypted. As far as I know, nobody's broken that yet, and since these aren't on the market, nobody's got one to try and break into anyway. 

"If you need to go ultra secure for whatever reason, jump on the Starknet." She showed him the setting to select. "The only thing with that is that dad might notice somebody on the network. It shouldn't flag, there are only a handful of users, so there's no reason to check. And since this is a valid phone with a valid ID, it won't trip anything. But, just, you know, so you know."

He took the phone from her hand and turned it in his for a moment. "Thank you."

"Sure. I've put some numbers on it already. Mine, Steve's, dad's, Thor's, and Phil Coulson's." Bucky frowned at the last name. "He's the new Director of SHIELD. What's left of it. He's a good guy, really. He's trying to rebuild SHIELD, but, the right way. He's got a few resources left. If you need something, and you can't reach me, you can go to him. He won't try to hold you or anything. Just, if you do that, promise me you'll take a picture of his face when he sees you."

"Why?"

"Oh, he's a big time fan. The look on his face when I told him you were alive — it was like telling him Santa was real. Sort of. Once he got past the shock." He stared at her, brows drawn down in uncertainty. "He recruited me. He is a good man. I promise. I wouldn't send you to somebody I thought would hurt you."

Bucky still looked dubious and stared down at the phone. 

"One of his team, a guy called Triplett, he's the grandson of one of your old Howling Commando buddies."

"Who?"

"Gabe Jones?"

"I don't … I don't really remember." Bucky frowned and rubbed at the face of the phone with his thumb. "Spoke German and French?"

She grinned back at him. "That's the one. Communications specialist."

Doubtful of his own knowledge, he shrugged. "Okay."

"Coulson knows I'm giving you his number. He says to tell you he'd be honored to help you."

Bucky glanced over at her, surprise clear on his face. "Really?"

"Really."

Amusement touched his lips for a minute. "Didn't lecture you about talking to assassins?"

"No, that was mostly Steve, but he's just a worrier. I mean, Phil was a little concerned, but I am one of his agents, so I'm sure he feels like he has to give the default warning. For protocol's sake."

"Your pop?"

She held out a hand and tipped it side to side. "Meh. He's got some hangups at the moment. It's … well, never mind." She didn't want to get into what was going on with Tony. Mainly because, for the first time, she was having trouble getting a read on him. Weary, she supposed. Angry. Hurt. Plus, residual PTSD. None of that was anybody's business, not even for the purposes of trust building. "He's going through some stuff."

"What about—" He cut himself off from his list of people who might be cranky with her. Darcy followed his gaze to a couple of cops strolling up the steps nearby.

"Relax, dude," she muttered. "There's nobody looking for you but Steve."

"And Hydra," he corrected. And, she supposed, the mystery 'other people' who had Natasha so worried. One creepy terror-mountain at a time, Lewis.

"Well, they're just dumb," she said stoutly.

Bucky's eyes slid over to her and the corner of his mouth ticked up. "Yeah."

They watched the officers casually observing the other people around. They didn't seem to be looking for anybody, though. Probably only out stretching their legs and doing a little foot patrol. 

"If they're looking for anybody, it would be me anyway," she told Bucky with a casual shrug.

"Why?"

"Oh, just a little thing about SHIELD being declared a terrorist organization. I mean, officially I was cleared, but there's some dickbag named Talbot who's still hot on stringing us all up. He's already tried to grab me once. I was low-level, but reported directly to Director Fury, so that made me an extra suspicious character in his eyes. And, well, while I disavowed SHIELD, clearly I haven't actually left. So …" 

She looked over at him and gave his shoulder a nudge when his eyes narrowed and he stared more intently at the cops. "Subtle, dude. Ignore them. Check out the view or something."

"If they come over here—"

"Then let me do the talking. I'm super good at it."

"I've noticed," he said with a degree of dry humor that might almost have been insulting if her talking ability hadn't been one of her proudest skills.

"Right, so leave that to me. Things that require talking, I'll take. If Hydra commandos show up, I will totally leave that to you."

"Alright," he agreed. 

"At least we got the suspicious exchange of packages out of the way before they turned up." She laughed. "Besides, if they tried to arrest me I'd just scream Stark, and a swarm of lawyers would descend like a cloud of briefcase-carrying locust. It would be a spectacularly awesome sight."

He huffed at that, but seemed mollified.

"Speaking of screaming Stark," she said, trying to sound nonchalant, "can I ask how you found my parents' house?"

His gaze drifted away from the cops and down to her. There was a spark of amusement in his blue eyes. "You said your name was Stark."

"While that's not technically true, it's also not completely a lie," she rushed to explain, pointing a finger at the sky as she made her argument. "I am a Stark. I was trying to, you know, connect with you. I hoped you'd recognize the name."

He nodded, but still looked amused. "I was curious, he gets mentioned all the time, but there was nothing about you. There was a company photo, you're listed as Lewis."

Frowning, she tried to think of the photo he meant. She was never in the company photos, for very good reasons. Reasons like being outed by scary assassins. "Project team picture?"

"Yeah."

Team photos at the end of a project were an SI tradition, for the company archives, and the team picture for Jericho was the one exception to her ban from company pictures. Given the classified nature of that project, and with the fallout from the team leader being kidnapped by terrorists for three months as they tried to force him to recreate the weapon, the photo wasn't ever made public. 

She sighed and gave him a flat look. "Did you break into SI?"

His chin dropped and his lips ticked up into a near-smirk. "No."

"Wow, that is a big, fat lie."

He just shrugged and fiddled with the phone for a second. 

"Okay, so why did you break into SI?" She prompted.

"I needed a secure computer. It seemed like a good place to go."

"Sure, sure, best in the world. Next time, though, could you maybe just ask me? The last thing I want is you and dad getting into it."

"I could take him," Bucky said with a dispassionate, yet chilling, certainty. 

"Without the suit, probably. I mean, I don't know, he's pretty squirrelly. With the suit?" She grimaced, the Winter Soldier had decades of training on her dad, but her dad had a massive weaponized suit of armor and a crazy genius brain. "Let's not find out. I'd rather neither of you got hurt."

"I didn't know you were in California," he said, sounding apologetic but not the least bit regretful. "And I got curious."

"He's spent my whole life protecting me," she informed him. Not as an excuse for her little last name fib, but so that he understood. If this was going to work, she realized they needed to understand each other. This had to go both ways. 

He looked at her for a long minute then nodded firmly. "Good."

Raising an eyebrow, she sat back and looked out at the sprawl below. The city ghosted through a stubborn marine layer, disappearing in the white horizon, and the damp in the air lifted up the evasive, sweet perfume of blooming jasmine and the heavier green of cut grass. It was a beautiful Spring afternoon. Could the Winter Soldier feel it?

"I can set you up with a computer," she offered after a moment of contemplation. 

Shaking his head, Bucky tilted the phone towards her. "This is enough."

"Alright. Well, I should probably go before my brother freaks and calls Tony." She stood, pulling her bag back across her body. "You good? Need anything else? I was serious about the explosives."

He shook his head and stood as well. "Some other time maybe."

"Sure. Just give a shout."

"I'll walk you to your car."

"Chivalrous, but unnecessary."

His eyes darted over her shoulder then back to her. "The police are still here. It'll look suspicious if I don't leave with you."

"Or it'll look like we're two friends meeting and then, you know, saying goodbye. Oh, or we're having an illicit affair, and we meet at the observatory to sit chastely next to each other. We could totally be a Jane Austen novel thing."

He stared at her for a moment, clearly not sure how to respond to that, before deciding to simply ignore it. "After you, doll," he said with a stubborn half-smile.

"Fine." 

It struck her as they strolled to the parking lot, that maybe he simply wasn't anxious to see her leave. He'd been alone for a long, long time, nobody to talk to, maybe it was nice to just chat — not that he was super chatty — without somebody trying to kill or control him. 

"Hey, so," she said as they stopped next to her car. "Give me a call if you need anything else, or even if you don't."

"Sure," he agreed, his eyes scanning restlessly over the parking lot.

"I get that you're not super talkative, and that's fine, but if you ever just want to kibitz." She waved a hand at him. "Don't make me wonder, yeah?"

"I got ya, doll," he assured her with a tilt of his head. 

"Alright." She pulled out her keys and briefly considered giving him a hug, but thought better of it. He probably wasn't in a hugging place yet. "Good seeing you again, Barnes. Don't be a stranger."

He nodded once more before stepping back to let her open the car door. "Don't let him give you too much guff about this."

"Don't worry about it." She laughed a little, and grinned at him. There was a real fear plaguing her mind that he'd decide he was too much trouble and then he'd stop calling, and that would be a hell of a lot worse than dealing with Steve. So she put on a good face. "Look, I think … I think so long as you're keeping in touch with somebody it'll be okay. Steve will deal. And, even if you can't remember, just know this is a guy who'd go to hell and back for you."

He let his eyes wander again, looking uncomfortable. 

"Anyway," Darcy continued. She'd pitched again, and she'd keep doing it, but she knew when to back off. "I'm guff-resistant. You should meet my mom; she's never met guff she couldn't deflect. I've learned from a master."

His discomfort faded into a reluctant pseudo-smile. "Good to know."

"And if you need—"

"I'll call."

"Good."

He considered her for a moment. "Better get moving, doll."

"See you around, Barnes."

"Count on it."

Despite Coulson's faith, Darcy wasn't entirely convinced she was cut out for this level of handling. The Avengers were one thing; they were kind of like cats, you just had to feed them and play with them every once in a while and they were fine. Sure, sometimes they brought you home something dead and gross, but it was out of love.

Bucky, though. Bucky. The Winter Soldier. Seven decades of cruelty, torture, and deprivation. Dear God. What could she do against that? A little kindness here and there was all well and good, but it was a single drop in the ocean of inhumanity Hydra'd drowned him under for more than half a century.

And yet, he'd called her. He reached out. The first step was his to take, and now that he'd done it, there was a mad, wild sort of 'damn the torpedoes' feeling stirring up in her chest. Darcy couldn't bring herself to even guess what might happen next, but, holy crap, it looked like they were in it together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! A title.

Sam was in his room, hunched over his desk, working absently on a skeleton model of some sort of prehistoric critter when Darcy returned home. Her knowledge of paleontology didn't extend much past the dino shows they watched and exhibits they visited as kids. Though, she did look up Linhenykus Monodactylus — and nipples, definitely nipples. Giant, freaky nipples. Sometimes extinction was a mercy.

"Yo."

Sam jerked, one hand shooting out, knocking against a container of glue, which wobbled dangerously for a moment before he got control. He looked up at his sister, eyes wide and startled. "You survived."

"I told you I would." She tossed a grease-stained paper bag at his head. He fumbled with it, too, then shot her a wary look. "Churros."

"Thanks." He pulled open the bag and dug out one of the treats.

Slouching against the doorjamb, she watched in amusement as he licked cinnamon sugar off the paper wrapping. "Don't tell mom and dad I spoiled your appetite."

He gave her a crooked grin and shoved half a churro in his mouth. "I'm a growing boy, I'll still be hungry." 

"No kidding with the growing," she waved a hand, taking him in from his feet to the top of his Hobbit-curly head. "Are you planning on stopping any time soon? Like, we're going to have to raise the ceilings."

He shrugged. "I haven't needed to buy new jeans in a year. I think I've maxed out."

"Thank God. I was starting to wonder if mom cheated on dad with an Asgardian."

"Not funny," he grumped with a pout. 

"Lighten up, Sammy," she teased and rolled her eyes. 

"So … how'd it go?"

"Pretty good. He's … well, I won't say better, but maybe less awful."

Nodding slowly, he glanced up at her from under his eyelashes. "I'm sorry I got all bent out of shape."

"No big. But, you understand how I can't walk away?"

"Yeah, it's who you are. You don't give up."

"I hope not. Sorry I got bitchy with you," she offered her own apology with a rueful twist of her lips. "I could have explained what was going on better, but I try to keep this sort of thing from coming home here, you know? That freaks me out. Not that I thought Bucky was going to come in guns blazing or anything, but still. It's a bad situation with Hydra and all."

Sam took a bite of his churro and chewed thoughtfully. "Bucky," he muttered through a mouthful of dough and cinnamon. "That just … that just doesn't seem right. I mean, it isn't okay for anybody to have to go through, but he's Bucky Barnes. He's a hero. He shouldn't be … well, I don't know." He gave her a helpless look, words failing him in his attempt to explain.

"I know. It makes me angry that they'd do that to anybody, but what they did to Bucky … Let's go with enraged." She took a steadying breath, and kicked the back of one heel against the doorjamb. "I get the weirdest feeling of déjà vu."

"What do you mean?"

"Hydra, Steve, Bucky, even me and dad — kind of Howard's stand-ins," she listed, ticking each name off on a finger. "Like history repeating. God, even a Carter."

"Carter?"

She nodded and quirked a wry smile at him. "I don't know if you remember, it was kind of a long time ago, but Tony took me out to meet Peggy Carter once when I was kid."

"I …" He trailed off for a second and thought about it, before blinking a couple of times in surprise. "Wow, I actually do remember."

"Yeah, well, her niece was in SHIELD, too. I had no idea. I ran into her when I was giving my deposition." She stared at nothing for a moment. "It was weird, because I'd kind of forgotten a lot of that, but I met her, too, when my dad took me out there. She was a couple years older than me. It was surreal to run into her. And then there's a guy I met a couple months ago whose grandpa was Gabe Jones."

"Wow," he said again, looking a little dazed. "You're right."

"I know. It weirds me out a little," she muttered. It felt like some strange, controlling twist of fate. She might be okay going where the currents take her, but she liked feeling like she at least had the option of freaking steering her own life. 

"Well, but, Hydra got beat once before. You'll do it again," Sam assured her, nodding his head, firm in his belief. "I mean, yeah, look, two Starks, Steve, Bucky, and then all your Avengers pals. Hydra's screwed."

She chuckled a little and nodded. "Yeah."

He pressed on, obviously deciding his sister needed bolstering. "How many times did we beat them up when we were kids?"

"Like a million times," she agreed and then laughed. "Oh, man, I spaced telling you, but you know how I was all studying with Steve. Tactics and whatnot?"

"Yeah. That sounded pretty cool," Sam agreed and looked a little wistful.

"Hey, anytime you want in on that, just let me know," she offered with a smirk. "I don't think you want to get sucked in, though."

Sam shuddered and pulled another churro from the bag. "Yeah, probably not. So, about the studying?"

"Right. Remember how we used to actually draw up our battle plans?"

"Yeah." They went through so many rolls of butcher paper, their mom had remarked that she ought to invest in a paper company. Sam liked to draw the maps, and Darcy liked to marshall their little green army men and eccentric collection of tanks and Hot Wheels across the paper. 

"Okay, well, remember that big one, the one with the raid on the mountain fortress?" She prompted, barely holding back a snicker of amusement.

"And we used like half the kids in the neighborhood?"

"Right."

Sam raised an eyebrow, shaking his head in amusement at the memory. "I also remember that battle took all day."

Darcy fired finger guns at him and waggled her eyebrows. "It was awesome, right?"

"It was. I think that was also the last time you talked to Becca."

"She wasn't pulling her weight. I won't have malingerers in my unit," she scoffed. "Anyway, so Steve gave me an exercise to plan a raid on a hostile fortification. I totally just scaled up that old plan."

Sam laughed, a fine spray of sugar and cinnamon escaping his caked lips. "Oh man."

"Dude, he never realized. He was all 'golly, Darcy, this is really thorough. You came up with this in a couple hours?'. I played it off for a little while, but then I couldn't not laugh. I totally cracked. You should've seen the look on his face when I told him where it came from." She grinned at him. "I gave you half the credit. So, just know, eight-year old you totally impressed Captain America."

Sam grinned back, but looked down, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. He'd become something of a Cap fanboy since she brought Steve home for Thanksgiving a couple years ago. Not quite Coulson levels, but getting close. "Geez, Darce."

"Hey, it was a good plan, Dum Dum." Her phone began to vibrate in her pocket, and the sound of 'Star Spangled Man' chirped out. "Speak of the devil."

"That's Steve? I thought his ring tone was 'American Pie'?"

Darcy tugged her phone out of her pocket. "No, that was Tony being a jackass and hacking my phone."

"You get him back?" Sam asked curiously. 

"I changed all his to KC and the Sunshine Band."

Sam gaped at her, looking almost awestruck in his horror. "You're evil. Like, actually an evil person."

"Don't forget it." She raised an eyebrow at him then answered the phone. "Hey, Steve, what's the haps?"

"Hey, Darce."

"Hi, Steve," her brother called.

"Sam says 'hi'," she told Steve.

"I heard," Steve said, amused. "Tell him 'hi' back."

"Steve says 'hi back'," Darcy dutifully reported. Then she waved a goodbye at Sam and stepped out of his room, heading down the hall and to the front porch. "How the hell ya been, Rogers?"

Steve huffed a soft laugh. "Okay. You?"

"Not so bad. It's 75 here today, and 23 in Manhattan, so guess where I'm happy to be?"

"In California?" He guessed gamely. 

"Right you are."

"Am I interrupting anything?"

"Nope. My parents aren't home yet, so it's just me and Sam, and he's working on some sort of dinosaur thing. I was just bugging him."

"Okay."

"I was planning on calling you tomorrow," she told him as she stepped onto the porch and dropped into a wicker chair, kicking her feet up on the railing. 

"I know."

"You know?" She repeated, eyebrows rising to her hairline. "Are you developing psychic abilities? Don't tell my dad if you are."

Laughing, Steve said, "No, nothing like that. I, uh, got a phone call a little bit ago."

"From a psychic?" Darcy guessed again. "Phil says they don't exist, but I spent a summer working for a one once. Madam Odette was scary accurate, I kept waiting for her to point at me and whisper 'you're a Stark'. Though, she did also say you could tell a person's whole life from their body language. I learned so much from her."

Steve was silent for a second, probably wondering how to answer that politely. "I bet. No, it was Bucky."

Darcy stared at the slow stream of traffic on the street, taking that statement in. "Wow, did not actually expect that," she admitted. 

"He wanted me to tell you he took the grenade this time," Steve continued, sounding puzzled. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"It means your bestie is a standup guy. But you knew that already." Darcy sighed and shook her head. "I always tell him to call you, I swear I do, Steve, but it's hard to know if anything's getting through."

It was Steve's turn to sigh. "I know you do. I'm … look, I'm really sorry about everything. You were right, he doesn't want to see me right now. And if it can't be me, I'm glad you're the one he's talking to."

"I'm sorry, too. It's just, he's your best friend, and you're one of my best friends. I did it for you. Well, both of you, but—"

"No, Darce. I understand. I really do." He cleared his throat. "Time was I could never imagine having a friend as good as Bucky, then I met you."

"Aw, Steve, you're gonna make me blush."

He laughed at that. "I thought you were genetically incapable."

"I thought I was, too. You're proving me wrong." She pressed a hand to her cheek, checking if it was as warm to her hand as it felt in her head. Little warm. She grimaced. 

"Well, I'm sure you'll survive it." He was silent for a moment. "You know what I always liked about you?"

"My sparkling personality and engaging wit? That's what Jane says."

"Really?"

"She might have been being sarcastic at the time, but I chose to take the compliment," Darcy told him loftily. 

"Now we've just got to get you to take the compliments when people are being sincere."

She groaned and rolled her eyes. "You sound like my mom."

"She's a smart lady."

"Pfft. So, you were gushing about me?"

Steve snorted. "You always treat me like a person."

"Uh, you are a person, Steve."

"Yeah, but not everybody can see past the uniform. Not at first, anyway. Sam did … Sam Wilson, I mean. But, you were definitely the first. Well, the first person who didn't know me _before_ , you know?"

She didn't know what to say to that, so she settled for a simple, "Sure. Well, you're welcome."

"And, I think you probably treat Bucky the same way. We didn't talk long, but he must have mentioned you three times."

"I made a good impression, is what you're saying."

"I guess you did," he chuckled dryly.

"I'm thinking of making up business cards that say 'assassin whisperer'."

"Kind of a dicey job," he said, sounding both skeptical and a little worried that she was serious.

"Clint says I need a safer hobby. I prefer to think of myself as discerning."

Steve smothered a laugh and changed the subject. "Anyway, Bucky said he gave you some intel?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "I've already uploaded it to one of dad's servers. I'll send you the access info."

"Thanks. Did you get a look at it?"

"I scanned it quick. Some locations, and some names. Hydra, of course. I don't know where he got it from, so I'm not sure how up-to-date it is, but I figure he's smart enough to know what's good. It's just, they've had some shake ups lately, too. I think they're shifting a lot of ops around."

"That's a safe bet," Steve agreed. "Still, it's something to work off of."

"I'd like to send it to Phil, too."

"Yeah, of course. I mean, he is the Director now."

"Not that anybody recognizes SHIELD's authority anymore, but yeah."

"He'll pull it together," Steve told her with firm conviction.

"Oh, I know. If anybody can do it, it's the Son of Coul," she told him without hesitation, her absolute loyalty and faith never even a question. "I just wasn't sure where you stood on the SHIELD front anymore."

"I guess we haven't talked much lately, have we?" He said, his voice tinted with regret and apology.

"There's a ton of stuff going on right now," she brushed away his comment.

"And that's why it's important that we keep in touch. I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'll do better."

"Steve, come on," Darcy said, drawing out the words into a cajoling whine. "You've been dealing with a lot."

"So has everybody else."

"Okay, you know what? I've had enough of everybody beating themselves up over all the craziness they can't control," she said, a sharp snap in her tone. "Pull it together, Rogers."

"Yes, ma'am." He barked a short laugh, and when he spoke again he sounded like his old stubborn, resolved self. "We're a team. That's how we'll beat Hydra." 

"Good man," she said with warm approval.

"Speaking of, though, I haven't really been in contact with Director Coulson. A couple times through Hill. But, the old protocols were all shut down."

"They went full on nomad. Off the grid in a big way. I'll hook you up."

"Thanks."

"That's what I'm here for. You'll make Phil's day when you check in."

"Well, that's something," he said wryly. "Hill told me one of his team was Hydra."

"Yeah. Asshole," she growled. "He nearly killed one of the team, too. Poor guy was in a coma. He's awake now, but there's brain damage. I haven't seen him, so I don't know how he's been doing lately. He's back with them, but I guess it's pretty rough right now."

"I'm real sorry to hear that," he said, sounding genuinely grieved.

"Leo Fitz. He's a really sweet guy."

"I'll keep him in my prayers," Steve promised.

"Oh, hey, but that reminds me," she said, perking up out of the grim thoughts of Fitz. "They picked up a new member — Antoine Triplett. He's the grandson of your old buddy Gabe Jones."

Steve laughed, sounding surprised and delighted. "Is that right? Well, I'll be."

"He's a good guy," she confirmed. "I liked him a lot."

"If he's anything like his grandpop, then the Director is lucky to have him."

"Funny how it's like the band's back together again," she mused, her mind working back to the déjà vu she'd mentioned to her brother. "I mean, some of the faces have changed, but here's Hydra back and here we all are. Weird."

"I guess we're just the sort of people who'd stand up to jerks like Hydra. Makes sense we'd find each other," Steve told her philosophically. 

"I guess that's it."

"And we know why I'm still around, and even Bucky."

"Right," she agreed, thinking it through again. Finally she decided she should just let it go, and accept whatever this was — fate or coincidence. Did it really matter? "Nothing's really impossible, I guess; there's just varying degrees of improbable."

Steve laughed at that, and kept laughing. "Oh, geez," he gasped. "I swear to you, Howard said that exact thing once. I can even see that stupid smirk he'd get when he'd say stuff like that."

"Great," she said with a short, humorless laugh of her own. 

"Darce," he said, and she could hear the eye roll. "You've got his better qualities. I promise."

"Nah, never mind." Howard would always be a weird subject — between Steve's history with him, and of course her dad's less pleasant one, and her own complete lack — it was always hard to know how to feel about those comments. 

"Will you do me a favor?" Steve asked, sounding hesitant.

"Of course," she said, her agreement automatic.

"Will you still call me when you see Bucky? I just need to know he's okay."

"Always, Steve."

He breathed out a relieved sigh. "Thanks. How did he seem today?"

Darcy countered his question with her own, "How did he sound?" She wanted an idea of Steve's take, and maybe she'd be better able to gauge where Bucky fell between their experiences. It would be nice to have a second look from somebody who didn't automatically see Bucky as a dangerous threat.

"Distant."

Darcy winced. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Yeah, well." She shrugged, uncomfortable. She'd help Bucky for his sake and for Steve, that didn't mean, however, that she didn't wish Bucky would go to Steve instead. Not because she didn't want to deal with the man, but because she thought Steve was more equipped to help him. But, it was Bucky's choice, and for now this was how it would be. 

"He was … " Drifting to a stop, she actually thought about it for a minute. She told her brother he was less awful, but she wanted to give Steve more than that. Not a lie, or false hope, but maybe a more considered evaluation. "He laughed. Not a lot, but he laughed."

"Yeah?" Steve's voice lifted up.

"And he seemed less shellshocked, you know? I'm not saying he's a lot better, Steve," she cautioned, "but, I didn't feel like I was try to calm a spooked horse."

"That's good, Darce. That's real good," Steve said, voice thick with emotion. "Did he say why he was in California?"

"No. Well, to break into SI," she said with an irritated roll of her eyes, "but I don't think he came all the way out here just to do that."

"He did what?"

"Yeah," she drew the word out with a resigned sigh. "He needed a secure computer. I told him to just ask next time. I mean, geez, let's not see what happens if the Winter Soldier and Iron Man have a dust up, you know?"

"I do," Steve agreed, sounding grim. 

"I got him a phone," she continued. "With your number, obviously. I'm glad he used it."

"So am I. Thank you."

"I'm going to take today as a win," Darcy summed up, trying to feel as certain as she made herself sound. "He called us both, he gave me intel to give to you. He's trying and he knows, at least a little, that he's not alone."

Steve didn't respond for a moment and when he spoke again his voice was quiet and he sounded exhausted. "It's just so hard, Darce. I want to be there for him, but he won't let me. He was all I had for the longest time."

"I know, Steve. Phil says it'll take time. We've just got to make sure he knows he's our priority. Until he knows he can go to you, I'll do what I have to do for him. I promise."

"You're a real swell gal, Darce," he told her, still quiet, but there was a tinge of lightness in his voice now.

She snickered. "Aw, you always know just what to say to me."

"Yeah," he huffed a small, self-deprecating laugh of his own. "What's the Director say about him?"

"Coulson's agreed to be hands-off. So, SHIELD's not going to try and pursue him. Well, barring something going horribly, horribly wrong. Phil, uh, well," she cleared her throat, "he made me Bucky's handler."

"Good."

"Really?"

"I don't want anybody else to do it," he said firmly, sounding almost more like he was issuing a command than expressing a personal wish. 

She blinked and accepted that. "Okay, then." Hearing a car, she shifted forward in her chair to watch her mom pull into the driveway. "Look, my mom's home, I should go. I'll keep you posted."

"Sure. When are you back in New York?"

"Next Wednesday. Sam goes back to school on Saturday, but I'm going to stay for a couple more days."

"Glad to hear it. You've had a lot on your plate. You deserve the break."

"Well, it's as long as I think I can push it before Tony starts to whine, you know?" Her mom came up the walk, and Darcy waved, then pointed to the phone and mouthed 'Steve'.

Rebecca nodded. "Tell him we miss him around here."

"Mom says she misses you around here, by the way," she repeated.

"I appreciate that. Your mom's a real sweet lady."

"Sometimes. To you, mostly," Darcy gave her mother a mock glare. "Alright, so we'll talk soon, right?"

"Yeah," Steve agreed. "We'll do better."

"Good. I'll send you Phil's number, give him a call, would you? He could use some good news."

"Done. Bye, Darce."

"Later, Steve." Darcy ended the call and stared at her phone for a minute. There was a good bit of relief, being on the outs with Steve had sucked, but she found herself between two best friends who weren't sure where they stood anymore. 

"How is Steve?" Her mom asked, taking the chair next to hers. 

Darcy shrugged. "He's okay."

"Just okay?" Rebecca gave her a searching look. "You haven't talked about him much since you've been home."

"We had a teeny-tiny disagreement." Darcy held her hand up, thumb and index finger slightly apart. Squinting at the space between her fingers, she looked up at her mom. "Eensy-weensy really."

"Uh-huh," mom said with a roll of her eyes. "I won't ask what it was about, but I assume you figured it out?"

"We did."

"Good." Rebecca considered her daughter for a moment before a playful, teasing smirk appeared on her lips. "As far as candidates for future son-in-law—"

"Don't even," Darcy cut her off with a glare. 

"He's a nice young man."

"Who's like almost a century old."

Her mom waved a hand, unconcerned. "That just makes him worldly." Darcy groaned and covered her face with a hand. "You might even say _experienced_ ," Rebecca concluded, the teasing smirk turning a little evil.

"You are a terrible person," Darcy grumbled at her mother. "Have you met Steve Rogers? Oh, right, you have. Stop it. That's an American icon you're being pervy about."

Rebecca laughed and gave Darcy's shoulder a nudge. "You stop. What's wrong with Steve?"

"Nothing's wrong with Steve," Darcy defended. "He's my bestie. After Rico, of course."

"Right, of course. I always thought you and Rico were cute together, too."

"Would you stop planning my wedding in your head," Darcy demanded with a scowl. "What if I don't want to get married, huh? I can live a full, rich life without getting hitched. Or better yet, it'll serve you right if I elope to Vegas with a sniper who's twelve years older than me. Talk about experience."

Rebecca pouted. "You're ruining my fun. It's every mother's right to plan her daughter's wedding in her head. I'll have you know, too, that Pepper and I started a scrapbook of ideas when you were sixteen." Darcy goggled at her mother. That was an entirely terrifying thought, and she couldn't tell if her mother was joking or not, which made it all the worse. "And I assume you're talking about that Barton guy? He's not hard to look at," her mom said with an approving hum. 

"This is the worst conversation ever," Darcy moaned, slumping down in her chair to drop her head against the back. "Though, he did totally propose. And then Tony threatened to throw him off the Tower."

Rebecca snickered and Darcy joined her after a second. 

"I always knew," Rebecca said, the snicker turning into little giggles, "when I found out for sure that you were going to be a little girl, that you would be Tony's worst nightmare once you were old enough to date."

"Oh, God, he's such a hypocrite," Darcy groused, crossing her arms.

Her mom grinned at her and raised her eyebrows. "So a proposal?"

"It was a joke. But, Tony's timing was awesome. He walked into the middle of it."

"Oh, to have seen the look in his face," Rebecca sighed wistfully.

"Dark and stormy," Darcy confirmed, then gave her mother a wary look. "You were kidding about the scrapbook with Pepper, weren't you?"

"Was I? And, so, who is Phil?"

"Not a candidate for son-in-law," Darcy said quickly. "Geez. He's candidate for, like, over-protective uncle." Tipping her head back and forth, she considered, then shrugged. "He was sort of like Tony's handler when he was still working with SHIELD. And he's the biggest Cap fanboy you could ever meet ever in the history of Cap."

"SHIELD?" Rebecca pursed her lips and looked worried. "You still talk to him?"

"He's a good guy. Everything's been really rough since, well, everything." Darcy's face fell into a tired half-frown. "Hearing from Steve will cheer him up."

"It was nice of you to think of him," her mother approved gently. "You're a good person, Darcy. I know you've been through an awful lot the last couple of years, but I'm proud of you."

Darcy nodded and rolled her shoulders a little uncomfortably. "Thanks."

"I mean it." Rebecca gave her daughter's knee a squeeze, then stood up. "We should go out for dinner tonight. I don't feel like cooking, and your father's stuck in traffic."

"Sounds good. Oh, but Sam's totally been gorging on churros. Just fyi," she informed her mother off-handedly. 

"Churros, huh?"

"Yep. It's like a shark attack feeding frenzy in there." She shook her head and clucked her tongue. 

Rebecca raised a skeptical eyebrow. "He just got a yen for churros."

"I guess so. You know how he is," Darcy shrugged, grinning innocently back.

"Where'd he get them?"

"How do I know? Del, maybe?"

Her mother was still eyeing her suspiciously. "Well, I guess he is an adult."

"Only on a technicality."

"I could say the same about you," Rebecca said dryly. 

"I'm adulting all over the place here," Darcy countered and slouched further down in the chair, her hair catching messily on the wicker, and kicked her feet up on the porch rail again. 

"Is that what you're doing?" Rebecca asked with a huff of amused exasperation. "If you were an adult, I'd think you'd have grown out of trying to get your little brother in trouble."

"You can't prove anything," Darcy smirked up at her mother. 

"Yep, there's that maturity." Rebecca gave her daughter a despairing look, then turned for the door. "I'm going to change. Tell your father we're going out if you see him."

"Sure thing. And about the churros. He should really know what his son gets up to, don't you think?"

"Darcy Maria."

Darcy cackled evilly and crossed her arms comfortably over her stomach. "Then I shouldn't tell you about the raging kegger and all the girls?"

"I think you're mistaking your brother for Tony," Rebecca pointed out with a shake of her head.

"Tony will tell you himself he's in a committed relationship," she corrected her mother with a haughty sniff. "And he's cut way back on the alcohol. So, it must be Sam."

"Sam who got woozy after half a Bud Light?"

Darcy made a face. "Well, it was Bud Light. Who doesn't?"

Rebecca smiled, entertained. "You know, I keep up on the tabloids. Old habit. I saw pictures from that party for Thor."

"That was a diplomatic function," Darcy pointed out piously. 

"Did you have a … sword thing?"

"It was Lady Sif's. Awesome, right?"

"And were you or were you not swinging it at Tony?" Her mother pressed. 

She waved it off. It was a traditional feast game, apparently. That's what Fandral and Volstagg assured her, anyway. "He had his gauntlets on."

"Right." Rebecca laughed. "I'm glad to see you're in a better mood. You've been tense since you got home."

"Meh. Just lots going on. Too little sleep. Tony's a crazy insomniac workaholic." Darcy smiled up at her mother. "It was a pretty good day today. So …"

"I'm really glad to hear it. It's good to have you home. Now, I'm really going to go change."

"Oh, skip Sam's room," she called out to her mother, "unless you want to take in the stomach-churning churros carnage."

Darcy relaxed back, feeling somehow content. It actually was a pretty good day. Bucky called, Steve called, she got to mess with Sam. That's like all good stuff right there. Yeah, she'd take the win.


	3. Chapter 3

Darcy drowsed in the corner of one of the long, sectional couches in the Avengers common room, letting the hum of voices wash over her. Jane was next to her, tapping away on her computer. Clint and Steve were showing Thor 'Star Wars'. Bruce, Natasha, and Hill were talking quietly. And Tony and Sam Wilson were out on the balcony, where Pepper was trying to talk them out of testing the new modifications on Sam's wings from the 60th floor. 

They all had their own lives, own concerns, own missions — sanctioned or not — but once a month or so, the Avengers tried to meet for something that didn't involve the fate of the planet. SHIELD might be little more than a patchwork as Phil worked to rebuild, but Darcy still felt obliged to keep an eye on all of them. One night a month she didn't have to update her mental status report, one night a month she didn't have to wonder who was getting into what trouble, one night a month she didn't have to wonder who was bleeding in a ditch somewhere. It was nice. 

"Darcy." Jane nudged her foot and Darcy jerked up out of her drifting doze.

"Huh?" She asked blearily.

"Your phone." Jane pointed to the device vibrating its way across the coffee table. 

Darcy yawned and reached a hand out, almost rolling off the couch as she lunged to grab it. Jane caught her by the knee, steadying her.

"Sorry. Thanks." Darcy slumped back on the couch and accepted the call, not even bothering to look at the number. "'Lo?"

"Hey, doll."

Darcy stiffened, but tried not to bolt upright. She was in a room full of spies, they'd catch it. Well, actually, spies nothing — Jane was two feet away and knew her far too well. Forcing herself to relax, she replied in what she hoped sounded like a normal, light voice, "Hey, how's it going?"

"I need your help." Bucky's voice was tight and rough. 

"Yeah? Hold on just a sec." She pushed herself off the couch and mouthed 'Rico' at Jane who nodded back, but her eyebrows were lowered in considering frown. She'd never convince Jane that she wasn't up to something at all times. 

Making her way to the elevator meant a long walk across the room, and she saw both Natasha and Clint turn to watch her as she went. It was creepy how they did that in sync. 

"So, what's up?" She said brightly, knowing they could overhear her, and trying not to sound like she was coming to the exhausting realization she had somebody else to add to her mental status list. Not even one night off a month, damn it.

"I need you to meet me," his voice was still rough, almost like he couldn't quite catch his breath. 

Darcy stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the penthouse. "Sure."

As the doors closed she saw Steve looking her way. She forced a smile at him and let out a sigh when the doors blocked his view. "Where?"

Bucky rattled off an address and she had to think for a second while she went over her mental map of the city. It wasn't exactly nearby, but the hour was late. "Thirty minutes, maybe? I'm still trying to get a hang of navigating here."

"That's fine," he grunted.

On the penthouse floor, she darted down the hall and into her room to grab her keys and bag. "You need me to bring anything?"

"No. Don't tell—"

"Don't tell anybody," she interrupted. "Got it. Some day, Barnes, you'll actually trust me."

"I do."

***

She found the rundown apartment building without too much trouble. She wasn't 100% sure her car would still be there when she left, Hell's Kitchen wasn't the best part of town, but a cab left a trail too easy to follow. If Clint or Nat wanted to stalk her, she'd do her best to make it an adventure for them. They'd be disappointed in her if she didn't. And, honestly, anybody who tried to boost her ride was in for a fun surprise. Tony liked to play with security systems. 

Approaching the building, she saw the security door was ajar, and hesitated before pushing it open cautiously. When no evil Hydra goons jumped out of the grimy hallway at her, she stepped through and climbed the creaky steps to the 3rd floor. 

Casting an anxious look up and down the poorly lit hall, she stopped in front of the door to 3B and knocked twice. As she waited, her hand drifted into her bag for the comforting weight of her taser. It wasn't that she didn't trust Bucky, but she wasn't sure she trusted this building. 

She jumped a little when the door jerked open and a disheveled Bucky Barnes stared out at her. The whole right side of his white t-shirt was dark with drying blood and his face was pale and damp, sweat beading at his hairline. 

"Holy crap." Darcy stepped forward, driving him back into the dim apartment. "Is that your blood?" She reached out to pluck at the shirt until he moved back out of her reach.

"Some." He shut the door behind her and threw the rusty locks. 

Glancing around the room, she took in one of the most depressing places she'd ever been. Except for a sagging couch in the middle of the room, and a mattress shoved against one wall, the room was empty. A single, bare lightbulb burned over the lone counter that separated what some realtor would optimistically call the kitchen, from the rest of the place. Two windows were covered by peeling brown paper, and the closet of a bathroom was blocked off by a stained, faded sheet. It was a dismal hole. 

Turning back to Bucky, she saw him watching her.

"So, what do you need?" She asked, clapping her hands together once.

"I can't reach," he muttered, turning his back to her so she could see the tears in the shirt, each rip surrounded in spots of blood so dark they were almost black. Darcy swallowed heavily and tried not to gag when she caught the glint of metal poking out of his skin through the tattered fabric. 

"Jesus," she breathed. "I'm an astrophysicist's intern, not a doctor. I can call—"

"No," he said, his voice sharp. "It'll heal. I need the splinters out first." He pointed to the counter and the big, white plastic box on the cracked tile. 

Darcy looked back and forth between the box and Bucky. "Are you out of your mind?"

"I'm sure you've had some med training. Will you do it or not?" He moved to cross his arms in a gesture of impatience, but dropped them with a hiss when the motion pulled at his back. Darcy could see the pain in his eyes, and as much as the damage made her actually physically ill, he had called for help. But, boy, Phil hadn't told her she'd need to brush up on her back-alley surgery skills when he'd said being Bucky's handler would be a unique challenge. 

"Yeah," she agreed with a deep breath. "Yeah, I'll do it. Do you have any better light?"

"No," he told her shortly, moving over to stand under that single bulb. 

"Can you take off your shirt?" Darcy asked, tossing her bag onto the couch and trying to mentally prepare herself for her first taste of field medicine. 

"No. There's scissors in the kit. Just cut it away," he ordered in a tight, irritated voice.

"I haven't even started and you're already the worst patient I've ever had." Darcy circled the lone counter and pulled open the first-aid kit, rifling though its contents. "Are you going to stand while I do this?"

"Yes."

"Fair warning, then, if you pass out I can't catch you and I'm not even going to try." He made small sound that might have been a laugh. Maybe. "But, if I pass out, I totally expect you to catch me."

"You'll be fine," he said with a degree of confidence that would have been really flattering if he wasn't standing there bleeding all over the place. 

Darcy did as he ordered and cut the shirt up the middle of his back, grimacing unhappily when she had to peel away the pieces glued to his skin by a stubborn, shiny layer of dried blood. Trying to be gentle, she tugged the fabric over the shards of shrapnel and torn skin, but his hissed breath and the squeal and grind of metal on metal as he clenched his fist told her she wasn't as successful as she hoped. 

"Sorry," she muttered, and pushed the remains of the shirt from his shoulders. Her eyes caught briefly on the thick, ugly rope of scar tissue that bound his cybernetic left arm to his torso. Sure, okay, what are some splinters to that? Sweet mercy. 

Leaning back to let the feeble, yellow light fall on his back, she counted the wounds. There were almost a dozen spots covering his upper middle back to just behind his right shoulder. Some of the wounds were deep and still weeping blood, but others looked almost closed over already. Shit. She was going to have to cut them out, wasn't she? She really didn't get paid enough for this. Or at all. 

If it was Clint or her dad, she would have bitched and moaned — Natasha called it whining, but Natasha didn't understand that other people needed coping mechanisms — but she was afraid Bucky would take it literally and not call next time he needed something. Then she really would need to worry about somebody bleeding in a ditch. 

Pressing her lips together firmly against all the things she desperately wanted to say, and pulling a pair of nitrile gloves out of the med kit, she surveyed the task ahead of her. 

"Yeah, no," she muttered and shook her head.

Bucky let out a long, harsh breath. "Fine."

"No," she said quickly. "I mean, you're too tall. I need you to lay down or something. Can we—" He dropped to the floor like a boulder, and stretched out over the warped, dirt-crusted boards. She stared at him for a second and then threw her hands up in the air. "Okay, sure. That … works? I was thinking like the couch, but, hey, whatever. Least sterile operating room ever."

"They're just splinters," he grouched back at her. 

"If by splinters you mean credit card sized chunks of metal. Yeah, you bet." She set the case on the floor next to Bucky's leg, then started unwrapping gauze pads and alcohol wipes. Leaning over to get a closer look, she snarled when her shadow obscured the light. Getting to her feet, she dashed over to the couch to grab her bag and pull out her phone.

"You gonna take all night?" He grumbled, turning a darkly glittering scowl at her. 

"Worst patient ever. My only patient ever. Well, since I last cleaned my brother's skinned knees, but that was like a decade ago." She turned on her phone's light, and propped it up on the back of the kit. "I need light. So, what happened?"

"Hydra, what do you think?" He rested his chin on his crossed arms, letting his hair fall in a lank curtain over his face. 

"Alright, Grumpy. I assume you did more damage to them than they did to you." Picking up the scalpel and the big tweezers, she doused both in alcohol. 

"Yes."

"Get anything good from them?" She leaned over his back and poked gently at the inflamed skin of an already closed-over wound. 

"No. They tried to take me."

Darcy's breath caught and she closed her eyes. Hydra getting their hands on Bucky again ranked high as nightmare fodder. "Get all of them?" 

"Yes."

"Good." Testing the weight of the scalpel in her hand, she lowered the blade over the wound. "This is going to hurt."

"Just do it."

Forty-five minutes later, hands covered in his blood, face slick with sweat, and stomach churning from his unnatural stillness, Darcy sat back. She glanced at the pile of metal she'd pulled from his back and closed her eyes. "I think that's all of them."

Bucky's shoulders rose and fell with a long breath. "Thanks."

"Let me just clean off your back. Does this place have running water?" She was pretty sure he was squatting, but he had power, so hopefully he had water. 

"Yeah. I can do it." He pushed himself slowly to his knees, but lurched unsteadily and had to catch himself against the counter.

Darcy braced him with a hand on his shoulder. "Okay, tough guy, take it easy. Some of these need stitches, which you really don't want me to do. But I can—"

"They'll heal," he ground out, pushing himself up to stand. 

Darcy stood, unsteady as well, but that had more to do with both her legs falling asleep. "I can butterfly them. But, I need your back clean first. So, you know, just sit back down and shut up." She stomped her feet trying to get some feeling back, then winced when the pins and needles started. He ignored her and started slowly across the room. "Seriously, Barnes?"

He gave her a grim smile over his shoulder. "I've had worse." Flexing the metal of his left arm as a pointed, visual reminder of that fact. "I'll take a shower. You can finish playing Florence Nightingale after."

"Hey, you called me, pal," Darcy protested indignantly. Like this was fun for her? Right. She had all the nursing instincts of a meat-packing district butcher. Looking down at her blood-coated hands, she glanced up again to glare at his back, and the fresh streaks of blood. He disappeared behind the sheet and a moment later she heard the creaky banging of old pipes and the sound of running water. 

With a sigh, she pulled the gloves off her hands, and cleaned up the makeshift surgery as well as she could, shoving the waste in a plastic grocery bag she found next to a pile of newspapers against one wall — keeping it old school, Barnes — all the while waiting for the sound of a stubborn super assassin passing out in the shower. God only knew what she'd do if he did pass out. Probably just stand there and stare at him until he came to. It's not like she had a prayer of physically moving him. Well, she could at least keep him from drowning, she supposed. 

Darcy found a stack of energy bars in one scary cupboard and a few bottles of water in the even scarier fridge. Grabbing two of each and the med kit, she walked back over to drop down onto the sagging, musty couch and waited for Bucky. 

When he reappeared fifteen minutes later, Darcy was just finishing answering one of the five texts from Jane, having already answered the three from her dad and one from Clint. She loved having people, but geez, they hovered sometimes. Though, Clint was just wondering if they had any peanut butter. Because, apparently, he couldn't ask Jarvis?

Wordless, Bucky sat gingerly next to her and turned so she could see his back, which was already stained again by a collection of fresh, red rivulets of blood seeping from the nastier gashes. He held out a damp towel, and she traded it for the power bars and water. 

"Eat while I patch," she told him firmly. 

He unwrapped a bar and nodded in the direction of her phone. "What did you tell them?"

"That I had to run out," she mumbled, cleaning off and putting pressure on the deepest injury with the towel, and using a fingernail to try and scrape off the flecks that hadn't come off in the shower. Gross. 

"Won't they ask why?"

"It's none of their business." She lifted the towel, winced at the welling blood, and quickly unwrapped a butterfly bandage. With one hand she pinched together the gash and applied the bandage with the other. Super gross.

"They'll wonder."

"So? Maybe I've got a guy on the side. What do they know? I told my dad I needed lady things. He won't ask again. Well, he might ask Pepper, and he'll totally wonder why it took two hours, but that won't be a thing until I get home."

It was kind of sweet that he was worried about what she'd have to tell the others, but she was getting the uncomfortable feeling that he was working himself up to pulling away. Working himself up by tearing himself down as not worth the effort, if she had to guess. How do you build trust with a guy who didn't know himself anymore? A quiet voice in her head that sounded a lot like Phil said, _patience_.

"Do you? Have a guy, I mean," Bucky asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. 

Darcy raised an eyebrow and pressed a piece of gauze onto another wound, taping it in place. "You're getting a first hand look at my nightlife. What do you think?"

"You and Steve never—?"

"No." Rolling her eyes, she reached for another bandage. This was definitely a line of conversation she didn't expect from the Winter Soldier. But, it opened up the opportunity to give a little. Make the connection, patience, persistence. 

"I adore the hell out of him," she said, "but, I don't know. He doesn't seem interested, which is fine. I mean, actually, it really is fine. He's a good friend. I'm happy with that." And she was. She'd crushed hard on Steve when they first met, but as he struggled to bring himself into the 21st century, he saw an awful lot of the past in her. She wanted to be more to somebody than a wistful reminder of days long, long gone. 

"Sure," he muttered. "It's a good cover. Having a guy, I mean."

She paused in applying a bandage and leaned around his shoulder to give him a skeptical look. "You wanna be my side bit, Barnes? I've had dudes ask me out in kinda weird ways, but I think you win."

He grunted and gave her a irritated side-eyed glance. "I just thought it would be easier for you to answer questions."

Sitting back, she finished placing the bandage. "Easier to lie, you mean." 

Hunching his shoulders, he mumbled a nearly inaudible, "Sorry."

Darcy wiped away some more blood and shook her head at the surreality of her evening. "Don't be. Seriously, don't be sorry. And don't worry so much about what I have to say. The day I can't talk my way out of or into something is the day I'm dead."

"Okay," he said, accepting that truth easily enough. He did have some first-hand experience with that gift of hers, after all. 

She patched the last wound and leaned back to look over her work. Well, it wasn't Bruce-tidy, but he wasn't going to die or bleed all over everything. "You're good."

"Thanks." He picked at an energy bar, chewing listlessly at a piece. 

"There's one thing I want to make clear," she said, gathering up the discarded wrappings and shoving them into the plastic bag. "You need help, you call me."

"Yeah," he said in a soft voice, but there was enough distance to the tone that Darcy didn't take it as a proper agreement. He was still drifting into 'I'm not worth it' land. She need to pull him back pronto. 

"No, not 'yeah'. I mean it." She set her jaw and glared at him. "You keep asking me what other people think, like you're too much trouble. Pal, you know who my dad is, and I handle the Avengers, _and_ ride herd on a pair of crazy, mad astrophysicists. The things I could tell you about trouble. So far? You're easy." 

Shaking his head, he reached for a bottle of water and took a long swallow. "Don't know why a girl like you wants in on this crazy mess."

"I made my choice when aliens invaded and I watched my father fall out of the sky," she said firmly. That nasty, sick swell of helplessness she'd felt that evening was not something she'd ever forget. "There wasn't a damned thing I could do to help. I don't want to feel like that again. Now I've got friends out there fighting this war, what am I going to do? Get a safe, boring job as a Congressional staffer or something, ignore that my friends and family are risking their lives? Fuck that noise." 

"You sound like Steve," he observed quietly, but there was some amusement back in his eyes, some life. 

"Gee, guess that's how we're friends," she said, letting his memory stand as it was, not wanting to jump on it and make him feel pressured, but she let herself enjoy a small burst of triumph all the same. Double win, too, because it felt like she'd got him back from the edge. "So, really, call me. I don't care when, or where, or whatever. If you need any help, call me. You need somebody, and for some reason you've decided that's me. Suck it up and deal, Barnes."

"I can find somebody else," he noted. Not a threat, a simple statement, but Darcy bristled and then felt a little panicky again. So close, so close, and he had to go and torpedo it. 

Her inner Phil said not to let go, she hadn't lost him yet. She needed to convince him she was doing this because she wanted to, and that he was neither a burden or a problem. Make him the priority. Be supportive, but firm. Inner Phil was getting chatty. 

"Two things — one, now you're just hurting my feelings. And two, who? You won't go to Steve."

"Somebody," he muttered.

"Dumbass." She poked a hard finger into his shoulder. He stared down at the digit, bemused. "If you need help and I find out you didn't call me, if I find out that you were bleeding all over the place and didn't ask me to come patch you up, I will kick your ass."

Bucky gazed at her for a moment, forehead creased in bafflement, before the confusion dissolved and he laughed. It was very nearly a real laugh. There was a wounded, choking roughness to it, enough to break her heart, but the genuine mirth on his face healed a few cracks. 

"What? You think I can't take you?" Darcy scoffed and waved a hand at him. "Oh, it won't be face to face, I'm not suicidal. Come on. No, artillery's my specialty. You'll never see it coming."

He tilted his head down, long, damp hair falling over his face, but she could see the smile still playing on his lips. "Is that right?"

"Don't test me," she warned with a dark glower.

"You are something else, doll," he said with a quick glance over to her. 

Darcy bit her lip and considered him. Had they made it back from the edge again? She really wasn't sure. 

"Don't make me wonder, Barnes," she told him. "Don't you make me wonder if you're out there hurt, needing help, but you're being too damned stubborn to call me. Don't you fucking do that to me." 

Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees and stared down at the bottle dangling from his hands. "I won't."

"Promise me."

He lifted his head and met her eyes squarely. "I swear to you," he pronounced solemnly. 

Darcy let her shoulders relax and smiled at him. "Good."

With a long breath, he turned his gaze to the windows, and the thin, black ribbon of night sky visible around the curling edges of the ratty paper covering. "It's getting late. You ought to go."

"From gruff super assassin to super mother hen in a blink," she clicked her fingers. Pressing his lips together in a thin line, he gave her a flat look. "No, no, it's fine. I'll leave you to your brooding and plotting." 

She pointed a finger at him as she stood. "You'll call. Even just to say 'hey, I'm still alive'. Right?"

"Who's the mother hen?" He pushed himself to his feet and lead her to the door. 

"I prefer babysitter."

Shaking his head, he pulled open the door, checked the hallway, and then stood back to let her leave. "I promise I'll call."

"Good." Reaching out a hand, she thumped him lightly on the shoulder. He still probably wasn't in a hugging place. Casual contact still seemed awkward for him. Not that that was a surprise. "See you later, Bucky."

"Night, doll."

Amazingly, her car was still where she'd left it.


	4. Chapter 4

Darcy returned to the Tower exhausted, weirded out by the whole grimy surgery thing, and worried about Bucky. She'd extracted promises from him, but it was so hard to know what was going on in his head from minute to minute. Of course, he most likely struggled with the same uncertainty. 

It killed her that he was squatting by himself in that shithole, when he could come home here. Or, hell, she'd find him someplace else. Anyplace else. The questionable choice of hideout was just one of many glaring things saying he wasn't taking awesome care of himself. The lack of care was obvious in the paleness of his skin, the thick, wild scruff on his jaw, and the lank hair hanging unevenly to his shoulders — trimmed by a knife, no doubt. And trying to live off of power bars wasn't going to keep him going for long. 

Thoughts occupied by her newest charge, she stepped off the elevator into the penthouse and missed entirely her father waiting to pounce. Until he lobbed a pack of tampons at her head. 

"What the hell?" The pack bounced off her shoulder and hit the floor, she kicked it back at him with a scowl.

"Lady things?" He pointed to the box and then back to her. 

Narrowing her eyes at him, she asked, "Did you rifle through my bathroom? Boundaries, dad! Boundaries!"

He crossed his arms and stared her down. "Why are you lying to me?"

"I wasn't lying, I was being selective with the truth. I am a lady and I did have things to do." That was not the answer he wanted, his face darkened, and she immediately regretted the flippant, off-hand statement. 

Glaring, he waved a hand at the couch. "Sit."

"I'm not twelve. You can't ground me," she huffed, but shuffled, slump-shouldered, over to the couch and dropped petulantly to the cushions. 

Walking over to the bar, Tony poured himself a scotch and stared at the tumbler for a moment. "I thought we didn't lie to each other."

"We don't," she mumbled, feeling a spike of shame. "What would you have done if I said I had something to take care of, but that you couldn't ask questions?"

"I don't know, but that would have been a hell of a lot better than knowing you lied to me," he snapped. 

Looking down at her hands, she chewed on her lip. She might not be twelve anymore, but she felt like it. "I had to meet an asset."

"An asset."

"Yes."

"And who is this _asset_?" He said the word with biting disdain. 

Glancing back up at Tony, she tried to meet his eyes, but he looked so wounded she dropped her head again. Treading carefully, she said, "You know I'm still working with Phil. When I met with him a few months ago he assigned me an asset."

"That didn't answer my —" he cut himself off and drained his tumbler before setting it on the bar with a sharp clack. "Barnes."

Alarmed, she sat forward on the couch, leaning towards him. "Dad, don't—"

"Don't what? Where is he?" Tony demanded. 

"I'm not telling you."

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I can find out."

"Dad, please don't do this," she pleaded. 

"Does Steve know you're stepping out with Barnes?"

"Does Steve care?" She shot back. Tony's scowl deepened. "Yes, he knows."

Nodding, Tony chewed on his mustache and gazed off at the windows. "So, you're just running around behind _my_ back. You know what he is."

"I'm not running around behind your back," she replied, her temper catching up with his. "I'm doing my job."

He barked out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Your job."

"Yes, my job," she ground out. "Dad, please, I'm trying to bring him in. He needs somebody."

With an arrogant wave of his hand, he dismissed her argument. "Let Steve handle it."

"He doesn't want to see Steve."

Tony turned his eyes back to her, his expression still dark. "He's an assassin."

"And there are two others in this building right now," she pointed out. 

"I know you saw what he did in DC." He shoved a hand in his hair, and gave her a bleak look. "He murdered Fury."

Darcy licked her lips and stared at her hands. "I know."

"Then what the hell are you doing?" His voice grew to a shout. 

"Trying to help him," she shouted back. "He's _Bucky Barnes_."

"So the fuck what?" Agitated, he paced in front of the windows. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Yes," she said, and Tony snorted skeptically. "I was. Dad, Hydra messed him up really bad. I'm working on it, okay, I'm working on getting him to come in. I just need more time."

Pressing the palms of his hands together, he brought them up to his mouth and stared at her for a long moment, deep in thought. "What am I doing?" He muttered half to himself.

Darcy frowned at him, puzzled. "What?"

"I promised your mother I'd keep you safe. When you were born, I promised your mother." He pulled his hands apart and ran them over his face. 

"And you did," Darcy said. "And then I grew up."

"I don't like this," he growled and resumed his stalking. 

Sighing, she dropped against the back of the couch and muttered, "I know."

He pointed a finger at her, clearly still angry. "Don't ever, _ever_ , turn the trackers off again. Never. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," she said in a small voice. Four times — that's the number of times her father had ever chastised her in her life. It sucked every single time.

"They're there so I can keep you safe," he said, his voice as hard as she'd ever heard it, but there was an edge of desperation and panic in the tone. 

"Okay. I won't, I promise."

"Next time just fucking tell me. We'll argue about it, but whatever. That's what we do. Just … God damn it, I didn't know where you were." His eyes were hurt and frightened, a harsh reminder of his residual PTSD. She'd never meant for that to happen, she never wanted to scare him. And what scared him wasn't that she'd lied about lady things, it was that he figured it out. Of course he did. And in his mind she was off doing God knows what, God knows where, and he couldn't be there if she needed him. She knew that helpless feeling all too well, and without thinking, just moving, she'd done that to him. 

"No lies, Darcy. Don't lie to me," his voice was as close to begging as Tony Stark could ever get. 

"I'm sorry." Darcy took in the tight lines on his face. "I'm so sorry. No lies, I swear. And next time, I'll tell you."

He stared some more, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he ground his teeth, but he finally nodded. "Fine. Deal." Then he shook his head. "There's got to be a better way to do this."

"Do what?"

"This, all of this." He threw his arms wide. "This whole fighting bad guys thing. I hate you being out there."

"It was my choice. And, if we don't, who does?"

He frowned and rubbed at his chin, his thinking face. "Good question. Good question. I've got to … yeah, got to go to my workshop," he said absently. "You in for the night?"

"Yes."

"Good." He started towards the elevator, but paused on the steps. "How is Barnes?"

She raised an eyebrow. It wasn't like Tony to remember to ask how other people were. In fact, it was extremely unlike Tony. "He'll live."

"What did he want?"

"Me to pick splinters out of his back."

Tony squinted at her for a moment, his mouth turning down in disbelief. "Seriously?"

She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, still feeling subdued. "Hydra tried to grab him; I gather it ended ugly for them, but if I had to guess, something blew up and he was too close. Shrapnel."

Blinking, his head bobbed back as he took that in. "Fun." 

She made a face. "Sure, nothing says good time like performing surgery in a dingy hovel."

His expression took on that dark cast again. "Surgery?"

"Well, okay, not really, but there was a scalpel. I just had to cut out a couple pieces that had already closed over." She held a finger up. "I would like to bring up that I don't get paid enough for that crap."

Tony snorted. "Take it up with Agent."

"Believe me, he is getting such an email from me."

Scratching a thumb across his mustache, he nodded, and started to the elevator again. His face was still tight, and Darcy wasn't stupid enough to believe everything was all better. He'd be sore about this for a while, and she probably deserved that. No, she definitely deserved it. 

When Tony was gone, she tipped over on her side, and rubbed a hand across her eyes. There were so many lines she'd drawn across so many parts of her life — tell this person this, that person that, don't tell this person, hide this truth, cover this knowledge — she was having a hard time keeping it straight anymore. And tonight it bit her in the ass. 

"Darcy," Jarvis called. "Dr. Foster and Agent Romanoff are asking after you. I've informed them you've returned."

"Great," she groaned. "Did Clint find the peanut butter?"

"He did." Jarvis was silent for a moment and Darcy thought that was the end of it until he spoke up again; "I'm uncertain whether I should mention a particular piece of information."

Darcy quirked an eyebrow and sat up. "Lay it on me, J."

"The request for peanut butter was an attempt to trace your phone."

"No kidding." Rolling her eyes, Darcy pushed herself to her feet. "I'm sorry I made everybody worry, Jarvis. I screwed this whole thing up."

"Errors are part of the process of learning and adapting."

Darcy smiled. "I'm still stumping for dad to make you a body. I totally want to give you a hug."

"This is a situation where I feel the phrase 'it's the thought that counts' is applicable."

"Well, I'm thinking it big time, Jarvis," Darcy assured him. 

"Noted and appreciated."

"Would you tell Jane and Natasha that I'm going to bed? I'm exhausted and I don't even know what to say anymore," she sighed and rubbed at her face again.

"Of course. Sleep well, Darcy."

***

She didn't sleep well, and the next week was a blur of weariness and guilt. 

Jane wasn't happy, Tony wasn't happy, Pepper was _concerned_ , Steve was morose — but that was his general worry about Bucky — Clint wasn't happy he'd been able to tell she was up to something the second she answered the phone, and Thor reprimanded her for venturing into an unsafe area without a comrade. The only ones who weren't a little cranky with her were Bruce, Natasha, and Hill. Bruce thought everybody else was being kind of hypocritical, Natasha only wanted a status report, though she did second Clint's observation at her poor hiding-things-from-super-spies skills, and Hill gave her a loaded look and asked if she wanted to go for coffee. 

Darcy couldn't get a read on Maria Hill, and had the uncomfortable feeling she was being played — not necessarily in any nefarious way, but as though Hill was also trying to get a read on Darcy to gauge the scope of some bigger picture. What that bigger picture was and how Darcy might fit into it was enough of a mystery, that until she could figure it out she took a raincheck on the coffee invite. 

And then she went and hid in Bruce's lab. For days. Like the mature, fully-grown adult she was. But then he Hulked out, which was not her fault, and he got to his reinforced Hulk room in the subbasement in time, so, really, no big deal, if easily the second most terrifying thing she'd ever seen. Or third? The Deathbot, her dad falling out of the sky, and Bruce turning green. Yeah, three. Funny how evil elves in London fell almost entirely off the list of terror. Erik's aversion to pants was way more horrifying.

When Friday came around again, the weather was breezy and balmy, and Darcy decided she needed to get out of the Tower for a little while. A little retail therapy couldn't hurt. 

At least, that's what she thought until she noticed the guy who fell in behind her at a corner. Darcy caught his reflection in a store front window, noticed the tight body language, and his small head movements as he took stock of the other pedestrians. He held himself a few paces behind her, close but not too close, waiting for his moment. Darcy rolled her eyes to the sky and cursed under her breath. 

Looking ahead up the street, she spotted the mid-block alley, and forced her shoulders to relax. Maybe she was wrong, but she really didn't think so. He was far too shifty. He'd make his move at the alley. God, she'd just wanted to get out for a couple hours, go to that vintage clothing store, find Jane a birthday present, maybe have a gelato. Was that too much to ask for, universe? Was it?

Common sense told her to stop, go into a shop. Training said to be unpredictable. Curiosity said turn around and look at him. Craziness said wait and see and then tase the shit out of him. 

Common sense won by assuring her that getting mugged would mean Tony would never let her leave the Tower again without an armed escort. So, slowing her steps, she pretended to be super interested in the tourist nicknacks cluttering the nearest shop front. Well, who didn't need 700 different 'I heart NY' pieces of crap? She stepped into the store, wandered through the gauntlet of postcard racks, skirted the artful tower of tacky mugs, and perused the cheap sunglasses with the helpful mirror allowing her a view out the front. 

The guy paused at the window, glanced up and down the street, then slowly walked past the store. Darcy contemplated the oversized Statue of Liberty sunglasses, before grabbing a pair and taking them over to the hopeful clerk. Rico would hate them, and yet, feel obliged to display them on his desk or something. That alone was worth the absurd seven dollar markup. Fingers crossed they wouldn't break when she let herself be mugged in the next three minutes.

The guy was going to hit somebody. He had that lean, ugly shark look. It could be her, with training by two of SHIELD's best, or else maybe some poor, dumb luck tourist, or a little old lady, or a waitress who couldn't afford to lose her tips. Oh, her dad was going to be pissed. So, so pissed. 

Thanking the clerk, she walked out of the store, making a show of tucking away her wallet as she pushed past the door. He was leaning against the wall near the alley, and when she shrugged her bag's strap more comfortably on her shoulder, he rolled into the mouth of the alley out of sight. She took two steps that direction and closed her eyes. Was she really going to do this? Yes, yes, she was really going to do this. And then her dad was going to throttle her. 

Pulling the small, wickedly modified taser out of her bag, she tucked it loosely into the front pocket of her jeans and adjusted her sweater to hang over it. Then she started walking, practicing her casual strolling skills. "Let's rumble, asshole," she growled quietly. 

He let her walk halfway past the alley before he darted out and grabbed the strap of her bag, yanking her backwards. She hooked the bag tightly to her body and let herself follow the momentum of his tug, spinning around when he shoved her against the brick wall.

"Give me your purse." To make his point, he pulled out a nasty looking curved knife with a serrated edge. 

"Those are so illegal in New York," Darcy commented. 

He brandished the knife, sweeping it at her face in warning. "Your fucking purse or I'll cut you."

"Okay, okay." Darcy slowly lifted the strap of her bag with one hand while palming the taser with the other. When the bag was free of her arm, she held it out to him, thumb ready on the taser. 

Just as he reached for the bag a solid, dark form dropped out of the sky behind him and a metal hand grabbed the back of his neck. With terrifying, yet somehow graceful ease, the man was lifted from the ground and thrown across the alley. He hit the opposite wall with a thud and an explosion of breath, and the knife fell from his nerveless hand, skittering away. With one arm across his chest, cradling his ribs, the mugger tried to get his breath, but he was jerked up again and pinned against the wall, where he found himself eye-to-eye with an extremely irate Winter Soldier. 

"Jesus, don't kill him," Darcy yelped, breaking out of her stunned immobility. 

Bucky paused and glanced over his shoulder at her. His eyes were cold, hard, and terrifyingly distant. He turned back to the mugger and gave him a hard shake. The man's head hit the wall with a dull crack, and Bucky let his limp body drop to the filthy pavement like another piece of garbage. Then he turned around and faced her.

"He was going to hurt you," he growled.

"I had him," Darcy grumbled petulantly, a little disappointed she hadn't had the chance to take care of things herself. 

Bucky blinked and took a staggering half-step backwards, staring at her with a lost, empty look. It only lasted a second or two before he shook his head, and straightened his spine, the glare returning. 

"You let him—" He trailed off, his jaw working like he was too furious to even get the words out. Pressing his lips together in a thin line, he grumbled something quietly to himself and bent to pick up the knife. 

"Well, it was either me or somebody else," Darcy shot back, defending her probably indefensible crazy ass decision. "And I knew he was there, and I was two seconds from tasing the hell out of him."

"Yeah? And what if you'd missed," Bucky's voice rose and he swept an arm behind him at the mugger. 

"Please. I don't miss. And he was like two feet away, " Darcy scoffed. His jaw dropped a notch and he looked away to fold the knife and tuck it into his jacket. Joining the 97 other weapons he probably had stashed on his person.

"You didn't actually kill him did you?" Darcy asked, leaning around him to peer down at her assailant. 

Bucky nudged the man in the ribs with his boot. "No. He'll be out for another minute or two."

"Well," Darcy said, pulling her bag back over her shoulder. "Assuming he doesn't have brain damage, I'm sure he'll have nightmares about you for the rest of his life." She poked Bucky's shoulder companionably. "Way to be a deterrent in the fight against crime."

"You could say 'thank you'," he snarled, still clearly agitated. 

"Thank you. I do appreciate it," Darcy assured him. "I mean, I totally had him and—" Bucky cut her off with a frustrated growl low in his throat, then he turned to stalk out of the alley, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his green, army surplus BDU jacket. 

Darcy looked at the thief for a moment, wondering if she should call the police, but the only way to prove he'd tried to commit a crime would be if she hung around and tried to explain how a Hydra assassin had come to her rescue. That seemed awkward. And with the knife gone, he looked a hell of a lot more like a victim than she did. Besides, he really would probably be mentally scarred by Bucky's sudden appearance. Let that be a lesson to him. 

Leaving the man on the scummy ground, she jogged out of the alley after Bucky. He hadn't gone far, in fact he was leaning against the same patch of wall her would-be mugger had leaned against. 

"So …," she began, coming up next to him.

"Let's walk," he said and pushed off the wall. 

"Okay," Darcy agreed gamely. "How's your back?"

"Healed. Told you, it wasn't bad."

Nodding, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. It had only been a week, but he did look better. He'd cleared the scruff from his chin, revealing his dimple, and he'd slicked his hair back, though a long piece had broken free in the extremely one-sided melee, and hung along the side of his face. He shoved at it, tucking it behind an ear. It was, quite honestly, the most natural, human gesture she'd ever seen from him. 

"Thank you," she said again. "Really. I'm not a 'throw myself at the bad guys for great justice' kind of girl, but he was trawling for a mark. Better me than somebody less able to defend themselves." 

Bucky licked his lips and looked away from her, possibly trying to hold on to his patience. "You're something else, doll."

"I've heard."

"What are you doing out here?" He asked, apparently trying to sound light and conversational, but he didn't really do conversational very well. It came out rough and more like a demand.

"Shopping."

"By yourself?"

She gave him a flat look. "Don't get caveman on me, it's the middle of the day, in mid-town. That dude was just an opportunist jackhole."

He tilted his head to one side and watched her for a few paces. "Just meant, I thought gals liked shopping with friends." It was a moderately plausible explanation for his question, and she let him go with it.

"Oh, well, Jane's not happy with me right now and Pepper's busy."

"Jane?" He echoed, testing out the new name. For the life of her, Darcy couldn't remember if she'd mentioned Jane to him before.

"My boss. Well, I like to think we're more partners now."

"What's her problem?"

"Nothing."

His eyebrows lowered and he gave her a steady, considering look. "Nothing."

"I maybe lied about something I shouldn't have, and she's not happy. It's nothing," she said stiffly. Darcy would live with all the disapproval, and welcome more, before she let Bucky have any reason to think he was a source of strife in her life. 

"Okay," he said, though he sounded like he didn't quite believe her. 

"So, what are you doing out here?" She plucked at his worn, dull green jacket. "Shopping, too?"

"No."

"Following me?"

"No."

"Speaking of lies," she thumped him lightly on the shoulder, then winced when she got the painful reminder that it was his metal one.

He blinked at her, startled as ever by the contact. "I was in the area. Saw you. Saw that guy drop in behind you."

"Ah," she said sagely. "Steve left yesterday. I don't know where he's off to. He lives in Brooklyn most of the time. I can give you his address."

"Don't need it."

She frowned at him, curious. "Don't need it because you don't want it, or because you already know it?"

His lips tipped up in a small smile, and he looked down at her, almost, almost teasing. "Just don't need it."

"Whatever."

They walked on for another half a block before he frowned. "The Tower's back the other way," he said, glancing over his shoulder.

"I'm not done shopping."

"What?"

"I came out here with a purpose, Barnes," she said firmly, forging ahead even as his steps slowed. "I guess I ought to thank you for that, too. If I'd been held up with calling the police and all, I'd have to go back empty-handed. Also, my dad would seal me into my rooms for the rest of my natural life. Or until I bribed somebody to break me out. It's hard to bribe from inside a sealed room, though. At least, I assume it is." Trying for charming, she grinned up at him. "Let's never, ever tell my dad about this. What do you say, pal?"

He shrugged and let his gaze drift up the block, over the traffic and pedestrians. "I don't know. What's in it for me?"

The unexpected humor in his response made her stumble and she laughed. "Name your price, Bucky."

"Might be steep," he warned.

"Sealed room. I'm not really joking about that. Though, I do think Pepper would try to talk him out of it," she mused thoughtfully on that. Pepper would give her a disappointed face, but she wouldn't be down by house arrest. Probably.

"I'll get back to you."

"Do that."

He stopped at the next street corner and looked around, his cool blue eyes shifting from spot to spot. "I'll leave you to your shopping."

"You don't want to come? Carry my bags?" She offered with smirk.

"No." He looked at her, his mouth pulling up into a small smile. "Try not to get mugged again."

"No promises."

Bucky let out a weary, exasperated sigh. "Do your best. See you later, doll."

"Later, Barnes."

She watched him until he disappeared half a block later.


	5. Chapter 5

Data entry was consuming Darcy's soul. Reams of numbers, a black hole of suck, and despite Jane's protestations, Darcy knew it was part of the on-going punishment from her late-night jaunt into Hell's Kitchen. So, when her phone rang, breaking the slow collapse of her spirit, she eagerly dove for it. 

"Lewis's Mad Scientist Discount Emporium. Today's special, two for one on hyper-intense astrophysicists. How may I direct your call?" Jane shot her a glare and when Darcy pouted over at Erik, he gave her an unimpressed look and turned back to his computer.

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. "I'm looking for something in a brunette who's fallen on a grenade or two."

Darcy spun off her stool, grinning, and, of course, earning an eagle-eyed look from Jane. "It's your lucky day, there's one left in stock."

"Can you meet me?"

"Sure can. No sales tax on shipments out of state," she said as she stepped out into the hall. 

"Local. There's a pub. The Old Dog Brewery."

"Okay. You buying?"

Bucky huffed in amusement. "Sure, doll. Half an hour?"

"No problem." She started to the elevator then stopped with a groan. "Oh God. I forgot my bag."

"So go get it."

"No, you don't understand. I left it in the lab." Pressing a hand to her forehead, she berated herself for her lapse in attention. This was going to hurt and she had only herself to blame. "Why did I take it to the lab? That should be your next question. And I'll say; why because you never know when Jane's going to get a jones for tabouli or something and we'll go out and I'm too lazy to go up ten floors for it. This means I have to run the Foster gauntlet."

"The Foster gauntlet," he repeated, enunciating each word like they were unfamiliar and foreign.

"Jane always thinks I'm up to something," Darcy explained. "Even when I'm not. Like, I could run to 7-Eleven for a slurpee and she'd think I was out dodging bullets for SHIELD. I mean, sometimes I am up to something, but it's mostly like the time I stole all her office supplies one by one and made a castle."

"Okay."

"It was a freaking work of art. Until she took it apart one night; she claimed she needed her stapler. I was sad. " 

"I think you'll survive the Foster gauntlet," he told her in a dust dry tone.

"You don't know Jane. Tell my dad I love him, would you?"

"Toughen up, doll. Half hour."

He hung up and Darcy stared forlornly at the door to the lab. She could go up to the penthouse and just grab some cash, but her taser was in her bag, and while she wasn't worried about Bucky, she did like knowing it was with her. Also her ID, hairbands in case it got windy, chapstick, makeup mirror suitable for a touchup or for peering around corners, three different colored pens, a notebook, pack of gum, glasses repair kit, pocket electrician's kit, multimeter, a short length of bungie cord, a handful of zip ties, a small spool of copper wire, a protein bar she should really probably replace because it had to be fossilized by now, and sundry other useful things. She liked to be prepared. 

Darcy poked her head back in the lab and moaned when she spotted Jane, smirk on her lips, holding up her bag. "I think you forgot something."

Shoulders slumped, Darcy stomped back into the room and made a grab for the bag, but Jane pulled it back. "Where are you going?"

"A friend wants to meet up for a quick drink," Darcy explained with what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug.

Jane eyed her skeptically. "Who? What kind of friend? A SHIELD friend? An assassin friend?" Jane whispered the word 'assassin' like she was afraid saying it too loud would actually summon an assassin. Darcy had not told Jane who she went off to see that night she really wanted to never bring up again. But, Steve moped after her for a week, and Tony was in a snit for days; Jane was as far as you could get from an idiot and she put things together pretty quick. 

"Just a friend." Which was starting to feel true. Bucky could be a friend. Darcy felt like they'd come pretty far, especially with his flying leap to her not-entirely-needed rescue. You didn't do that for people you didn't care about, right? Maybe Bucky had rediscovered that sort of a moral imperative to be a good Samaritan, and help out when he saw somebody in trouble, but Darcy figured you don't stick around and glare judgmentally at a person unless you care at least a tiny bit. 

"I do have other friends, you know," Darcy continued with a huff. "They're not all assassins. I mean, statistically speaking, I do have a disproportionate number of assassin friends, but let's face it, even having one really blows the curve." 

"Is it Rico?" Jane raised her eyebrows. She liked Rico, and Rico found her marginally less intimidating than Tony. "He should just come here. We won't tell Tony."

"It's not Rico. And, seriously, it's just grabbing a beer." Jane still wouldn't let go of the bag. "Come on," Darcy whined.

Jane relented with a show of reluctance, and handed the bag over. "Fine. Don't think I don't notice the evasion. It might work for other people, but I'm on to you." She pointed at her eyes and then pointed at Darcy. 

Darcy rolled her eyes. "It's a beer with a friend, that's all, and I promise to have only one, and then I'll be back to finish those pages. Honest."

Jane stared at her for a long moment before turning to walk back over to her whiteboard. "We'll talk about it later."

Darcy looked over at Erik, hoping for a little help, but that was a fool's errand — he was watching with a frown and a raised eyebrow. She slung the strap of her bag across her body, threw her arms up in the air, and stalked out of the lab.

A quick google search pulled up an address for The Old Dog, and twenty-five minutes later she stood in front of the pub, snorting softly to herself, amused at the thought of the Winter Soldier hanging out at what was clearly a hipster craft beer douchery. She didn't expect to find him inside, past experience said he preferred to find her, but she'd only taken a couple steps in when he stood up from a booth against the far wall. 

Her steps faltered as she approached, because not only did he look better, he looked good. Really good. His hair was slicked back again, and while he'd let his scruff grow back, it looked more deliberate and less hobo. She sighed to herself. Why did all the men in her life have to be ridiculously gorgeous and profoundly unobtainable?

"Heya, doll," he greeted with a short nod. 1940s gentleman that he was, he waited for her to slide into the booth before retaking his seat.

"Good to see you again, Barnes. And nobody's bleeding. I think we should always hang out in pubs." 

"Gotta say, I prefer it, too," he admitted with a wry quirk to his lips. 

The server approached and Bucky tensed for a split second before relaxing when the man didn't try to murder them. Darcy ordered Buffalo wings and a Belgian red, which earned a dubious look from Bucky, who settled for a lager. The server scurried off after taking Bucky's order. 

"What's the point of drinking a beer that doesn't actually taste like anything?" Darcy asked. 

"Tastes just fine. What's the point of having to chew your beer?" He shot back.

Darcy laughed. "So, hey, can you get drunk? Just out of curiosity. Steve can't, and my dad considers that one of history's greatest tragedies. Dad's sense of tragedy is a little skewed."

Bucky gave her a skeptical look. "Don't know. If I ever tried, I don't remember."

"Well, we'll have to give it a go some time. In the name of science," she said with a firm nod. 

"Right." He rubbed a finger in an absent pattern over the wood grain of the table. 

The server dropped off their beers, startling Bucky again, and somehow the guy was able to update them on the status of the wings and not run away from Bucky's cool, evaluating gaze. Though, he definitely didn't linger. The dude would totally get a tip commensurate with his bravery, Darcy decided. 

Bucky sniffed at his beer before taking a cautious sip. Darcy just shook her head and took a long drink of her own. 

"So, how'd the Foster gauntlet go?" 

Small talk? Huh. She nudged her mental trust-o-meter a tick to the positive side.

Darcy shrugged. "Meh. I survived."

"Told you," he smiled a little, just a quick twitch of his lips, and turned his glass around in his hand, staring at the straw-colored liquid. "What did you tell her?"

"That I was going out for a beer with a friend."

"Did she believe you?"

"What's not to believe? It's the truth." She ran through her encounter with Jane, and dropped her head to the table with a groan. "But, I've somehow lost my ability to work Jane. It sucks. It used to be so easy, but the magic wore off somewhere around the Chitauri invasion of New York." 

"Sorry?" He offered, uncertain. 

With a gusty sigh, she raised her head and frowned sadly. "It's okay, I'll deal. I guess." She waved a hand and took another sip of her beer. "If all else fails, I'm sure I can find some sort of blackmail material. Just got to be careful not to tick off Thor."

Shaking his head, he let out a dry, rusty chuckle. "I can't figure you out, doll."

"Then you're trying too hard. I'm not that complicated."

Bucky cocked his head and gave her an indecipherable look. "Now, that's a lie."

"I'm a simple girl. What's to figure?" she insisted with a grin. 

"I don't think you know what simple means," he said, raising an eyebrow and sipping at his beer. 

"Fine, okay, fine," she relented with an eye-roll. "Simple is boring. But, I insist I'm not that complicated."

"Whatever you say."

The server interrupted, making a quick, near-run, pass of their table, dropping of their wings and asking if they needed anything else, even as he backed away from them. Darcy snorted and waved him off. She pushed the wings to the middle of the table, but considered Bucky's hands — one gloved, one uncovered. Wings were generally a two-handed food. Maybe she should have ordered the potato skins, but, man, she really had a craving for wings. Bucky didn't appear to notice the dilemma, he picked up a wing with his bare hand, and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. His jaw worked for a second and then he pulled out the cleaned bones. 

Darcy blinked at him and picked up a carrot stick. "Wow, neat trick."

"What?"

"Nothing. Go to town, pal." She dipped the carrot into the blue cheese and crunched away as he worked steadily through the plate of wings. When was the last time he ate? Or rather, when was the last time he ate something that wasn't an energy bar or a seriously expired k-ration? Waving a hand at the server, she pointed to the plate and then held up a finger for one more. The man nervously watched Bucky devour another wing and nodded at her, disappearing into the back. 

"You're not having any?" Bucky waved a wing at her.

"You're kinda in the zone there, I hate to interrupt."

Frowning, he looked down at the plate and then back up at her, as some vestigial chivalry kicked in. "You ordered them."

"Don't worry about it. I got some more." But she picked up a wing when he looked like he was going to stop eating in protest. Nibbling at the chicken she watched Bucky. "So, what's up, Barnes?"

"Nothing much."

"Okay."

"Need to go out of town."

And he was letting her know. Okay, so, this was big progress. She felt a little warm inside and it wasn't the threat of heartburn from the wings. It felt like victory. "Can you tell me where?"

"Yeah." He set down another pile of bones and pushed a piece of celery around the plate. "I, uh, could use your help on this one."

"Sure."

"Better hear what it is before you agree, doll," he warned with a touch of amusement.

"Well, then lay it on me." She finished her wing and tossed it onto the plate. 

"Wait for the next batch first," he said, his eyes slipping past her to wander around the mostly empty pub. 

He went through four more wings to her one. "You know, I can order something more substantial," she offered when he plucked up the last wing.

"Nah, this is good," he muttered around the wing, before dropping the bones and staring at the plate. "Don't think I ever had these before."

"Gotta have wings with beer. But, they've got like sandwiches and stuff." She pointed behind the bar to the green chalkboard listing the daily specials. 

"Mother hen," he accused with a challenging glint in his eye.

"I'm just saying, if you're hungry, get something. Jeez," she exclaimed in exasperation. "I've seen Steve eat, and if he wasn't all Mr. Table Manners it would be disturbing. He polished off a whole turkey once. I'm talking a twelve pounder, here. And then he ate an entire pumpkin pie. It was something to behold."

Bucky looked thoughtful and picked up his beer. "Used to eat like a bird."

It was hard not to crow with joy every time he offered up a memory, but while she held her tongue, she also damn well catalogued every single one. "I've seen pictures. Tiny, adorable, little Steve. Did you have to weight him down when the wind blew?" 

Bucky huffed out a laugh at that and took a sip of his beer. "You'd think, huh?" 

The server swung around two tables to get to their's, just so he wouldn't have to come up behind Bucky again. Darcy offered him a sympathetic smile as he dropped the wings and bolted. 

"What's that guy's problem?" Bucky asked, glancing over his shoulder at the man.

"Eh, who knows," Darcy shrugged and picked up a wing. 

"Coulda asked if we wanted another round," he grumbled and drained his beer.

Laughing, Darcy held up her glass to the server, pointed at it and at Bucky's, and gestured for another round. The man's shoulders dropped and he nodded.

"Got it." She let Bucky attack the new plate of wings and waited for the server to bring them their beers. Okay, so she'd promised she'd only have one, but getting Bucky to talk was worth two. Sorry, Jane. 

The server brought their next round, reached hesitantly across the table for the first, now demolished plate, and nodded at Darcy's quiet, "Thanks, dude."

"So, what's the deal, Barnes," she prompted once the other man had retreated to the other side of the pub.

Bucky licked sauce off of his lips and took a long pull at his beer. "I need a hand."

Patting herself on the back for womanfully resisting the temptation to make any number of wildly tasteless hand-related puns, she asked, "With what?"

"Hydra facility in Estonia. Can't take it alone."

"What can I get for you?"

"Backup," he said, picking up another wing and staring at it for a moment. "You'd be off-site. Just run ops. You're SHIELD, have you done that?"

"Well …" She grimaced apologetically, not wanting to tell him 'no', not wanting to disappoint him when he was asking for help, but, 'run ops' was not exactly in her wheelhouse as babysitter. "I've gone out with Clint a couple times, and coordinated with Jarvis and my dad when he was out. I mean, sorry pal, you're not getting a stone-cold agent here. But, I can be eyes."

He nodded, not seeming concerned. "That's fine. All I need. And some tech support."

She brightened and grinned, feeling far more confident. "Tech support, the magic words. I can totally do that."

"'Kay, good."

"Just so you know, so I'm not over-selling myself here," she said, feeling like she had to make sure he understood. "I've had training, but it wasn't what you might call consistent, or you know, standard in any way." Nat and Clint might be her SOs, but before SHIELD fell they'd also been in heavy rotation for missions. The sort of missions you didn't take a trainee out on, and definitely not a trainee whose father was also likely to go nuclear if something happened to said trainee. 

"Doesn't matter," he muttered working on another wing.

"You trust me to watch your back?"

He shrugged. "I guess."

"Geez, don't hurt yourself with the confidence thing," she grumbled and took a pouting sip of her beer.

He gave her an exasperated look. "I don't need you to provide cover or anything; you're sure as hell not going in. Just tell me what you see. I know you can do that."

"I can," she agreed. 

With a nod, he swallowed half his beer, then set the glass down and traced a finger along the side. "You've kept your word to me. Every time."

"I've tried."

"Yeah." He cleared his throat and let his eyes skitter around the pub, pausing on every patron, every employee, every movement. "You in or out?"

"In," she said without hesitation. "But, unlike some assassins I know, I can't just drop off the grid for an unspecified amount of time. You know, we could ask—"

"Don't even say it," he growled.

"Killing me, Barnes," she groaned. "Killing me."

"Three days," he said in answer to her leading comment about time. "Maybe four, tops."

"When?"

"When can you get away?"

"I don't know. Day after tomorrow at the earliest. Or …" she paused and considered the logistics of getting out of the tower for several days without earning too many questions. "I could loop Phil in and—"

"No."

"Here's the part where you let me finish," she told him with a narrow-eyed glare. He snorted, irritated, then sat back in the booth and stared at her. She took that as his agreement to shut up. "I need somebody to cover for me. If I say Director Coulson wants my help with something, especially since he's short-staffed, it's plausible."

"Would he go for it? Thought he gave you a lecture about me."

"I can make a case," she said, unconcerned. Coulson might balk a little, but she was pretty sure she could persuade him. Bucky was too big a get to not take the risk. "And also, I'm pretty sure I told you how he said he'd be honored to help you."

"Doubt he had this in mind."

"That'll serve him right for being all non-specific, then."

Bucky blew out a breath on a small laugh. "If you can swing it, we'll do it your way."

"Sweet."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled. "You got a passport?"

"Yes," she said with a nod. "I've even got a clean one not in my name." Natasha'd scored the document for her, off-book, for her last birthday. Best present ever? Maybe. 

He took that in, thought about it for a second, and then shrugged. "I've got a list of equipment. Can you see what you can get? On the QT, huh?"

"Yeah, of course." It had been a while since she'd lifted anything from her dad's store of tech and explosive goodies. She could probably justify it as a SHIELD requisition, but why, when she could just break in? No sense letting those skills get rusty. Also, any requisition like that would probably make its way past Hill's desk, and she still wasn't sure what was going on with the former Deputy Director. Darcy'd rather avoid any Hill questions. 

"Work out your story," Bucky continued with his instructions, "let me know what you can get. Day after tomorrow we'll go. I'll give you a meet point later."

She'd been in SHIELD for over two years, and this was by far the most Bond conversation she'd ever been a part of. Of course, a lot of SHIELD had been paperwork, which was neither exciting nor intriguing. "Okay."

"This needs to stay between us. Not Steve. Not anybody," he pressed. 

"I assumed as much."

With a short nod, he jerked his chin at the plate of wings. "You want any more?"

"No. Knock yourself out."

He pulled the plate closer, and started in on the chicken again. "So," he muttered around a mouthful, "how about them Dodgers?"

"You are a terrible person."

***

Jane attempted an interrogation, but she was better at guilt than questioning, and since Darcy was back inside two hours, and finished those numbers as promised, Jane didn't have a lot to work with. Darcy did put off telling her she'd be gone for a few days, at least until she knew if Coulson would cover for her or not. Jane would never be thrilled with SHIELD, but she'd make only a tiny protest if Darcy was responding to a plea for tech help. Besides, Thor liked the Son of Coul, though that was something of a sore spot in their relationship — she'd never quite forgiven the man for stealing all her equipment. 

After escaping Jane, Darcy went through Bucky's list to figure out how much she'd have to steal and where she'd put it. It turned out he was pretty low-maintenance, and she knocked through the list in short order. A few small pieces, timers, wire, some comm equipment, not much really, and not a lot more than she already had in her bag. She didn't even have to go to the scary-fun storage to get most of it, which was only a little bit disappointing. 

Darcy squirreled the equipment away in her room, bit by bit throughout the day, and packed each piece carefully into a blue, water-proof duffle. When she'd checked off the last item on his list, she made a quick call to Bucky, where they arranged for her to drop the bag off with him, and he'd smuggle it aboard the cargo flight he was planning on smuggling himself aboard. Darcy would take a passenger flight using her fake passport. 

Finally, she called the Director. 

"No, absolutely not."

"Phil, come on," Darcy groaned and dropped back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling tiles. 

"Don't," Coulson cut her off. "Darcy, you don't know where you're going—"

"Estonia."

"Why you're going—"

"Hydra base."

"You have no intel on the area or the facility, not even coordinates. You're going in blind, and without an objective."

Darcy pressed a hand to her eyes and took a steadying breath. "I have an equipment list. I can guess the objective, and it rhymes with kersplosions."

"Don't make me issue a direct order," Coulson warned. 

"Can you, though? I mean I did disavow SHIELD and all."

"Until I get your resignation letter you're still an agent. _My_ agent."

"Aww, I love you, too, Phil."

"You're going to do this whether I want you to or not, aren't you?"

"I'm trying, Phil," she said, backing down from the flippancy. "You were the one who said I might have to drop everything to help him."

Coulson made a frustrated sound. "I did, didn't I?"

"This is what happens when you ask a Stark to do something. We whole-ass everything."

"I'm so very aware," Coulson sighed. "I need your serious assessment here, Darcy. In your professional opinion, will Sgt. Barnes make every effort to keep his word as far as your security is concerned?"

"Yes."

"I'd like more than that, agent," he grumped. 

"From past experience, I conclude that Sgt. Barnes will not put me at an unreasonable degree of risk," she said using her 'reporting to Fury' formal voice.

Coulson was quiet for a moment, and then asked, "Past experience being what?"

Darcy chewed at the inside of her lip and grimaced. She'd avoided mentioning the near-mugging to everybody. "A couple of weeks ago, Bucky stopped me from being mugged. Well, actually, I had the situation under control, but he didn't know that when he showed up."

"Is the mugger still alive?" He asked, sounding like he was forcing himself to ask a question he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to. 

"He was alive when we left," she assured him. 

"I see."

"That's not really the relevant part," Darcy continued on, hurrying past the fate of the mugger. "It's possible that I let myself be nearly mugged, because the assailant was looking for a mark."

"Better you than somebody else?" Coulson asked with suspicious evenness. 

"Yeah."

"I could say something here, but I know who trained you, and I find myself entirely unsurprised."

Darcy preened at that and smiled up at the ceiling. "Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment," Coulson told her dryly, though there was a touch of amusement in his tone. 

"Whatever," she huffed. "The relevant point was that once Bucky realized what I'd done, he was pretty furious. So, if he was that angry about me taking on a run-of-the-mill dirtbag, I don't see him letting Hydra take a crack at me."

"That is a compelling point," he agreed. 

"See?" She asked, feeling she was making headway, and now was the time to press the point home. "I trust him, Phil. He was very clear about me not being on-site. He just needs somebody to get into the system from the outside and monitor."

"Alright," Coulson sighed and she punched the air in triumph. "I don't like you going in without backup, though. I'd feel better if there was a third member of your team."

"I'm open to suggestions. He's not."

"What about Captain Rogers?"

"No. Bucky's really firm about that. Honestly, and actually objectively, I swear — I think my dad or Clint would be better, anyway. This doesn't seem like a situation calling for two tanks. More like recon and eyes. But, I can tell you right now, Barnes isn't down with that. And, dad's got some issues at the moment."

"Sgt. Barnes is going to have to begin to accept team help if he's going to call on you for situations like this in the future," Coulson grumbled, his firm Director tone making clear that wasn't a suggestion. 

Darcy flinched a little and said, "Can I say that we're working up to it? He knows I'm telling you. I feel like that's excellent progress considering where he was just a few months ago."

"I agree. But, I want you to make clear to him, that while we're happy to have his help, if he wants to continue requesting the assistance of one of my agents on high-risk missions, I'm going to require a degree of communication."

"Okay," she agreed slowly, not at all certain how Bucky would take that. She'd have to spend some time working on how to say that in such a way that he didn't take off. 

"I know you feel this is a tenuous relationship," Coulson said, clearly reading her mind, even if he swore there was no such thing as mind-readers. "But, if he's trusting you to back him, then it's time to firm up, agent." When she was silent, he pressed, "You're more than capable of bringing in Barnes. I have faith you can negotiate the line between being firm and going too far. You're more familiar with his mindset than anybody else right now."

"Right."

"When you've got coordinates, let me know," he ordered.

"I'll … yeah, okay," she agreed with a sigh. Bucky was just going to have to deal. Oh well, she'd fight that battle tomorrow.

"Our reach is limited right now," Coulson continued as the conversation turned fully into a briefing, "but if something goes wrong, somebody needs to know where you are. I know they frequently operate independently, but not even Clint and Natasha go off-grid unless an op specifically requires it. And then they have contingencies, fall back options, and a lot more experience."

"No, okay, you're right."

"Worse comes to worse, if things go sideways, I'll call Stark. What are his feelings about Sgt. Barnes?"

"Not super cheery," Darcy admitted. They hadn't really talked much about Bucky since the night that should not be mentioned. But, it seemed to be less lack of opportunity and more intentional avoidance on both their parts. It probably didn't bode well that her father had buried himself in his workshop for days on end. "But, that's less to do with Bucky directly, I think, and more to do with the whole SHIELD/Hydra mess. And finding the hit order on Howard."

"Ah, right." She could hear the wince in his voice. "What about Barton?"

"He'd heard of the Winter Soldier before, and he knows about Natasha's encounters with him, of course. So … neutrally cautious?"

"I assume Natasha's history with the Winter Soldier is why she wasn't one of your suggestions."

"Yeah. She gets weird when he's mentioned."

"I'm sure she does," Coulson murmured, something in his voice that Darcy couldn't quite name. "Very well, I'll take your suggestions for backup. You're going tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Bucky says we should only be out maybe four days."

"Barton's engaged at the moment, but if he clears in time, I'll have him stand by."

"Copy that."

"I want regular check-ins," Coulson ordered.

"Okay," Darcy agreed easily. 

"If you run into any trouble—"

"I'll get a message out."

"Alright," Coulson said, sounding reluctant but resigned. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Phil, for, like, ever I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. You helped me figure it out. Now you gotta let me do my thing."

"Be _careful_."

"I will. And, really, I don't think Bucky's going to let me get into too much trouble. Dude's a mother hen."

"Ops turn."

Darcy lifted her head up and banged it back on her pillow a couple of times. It wasn't as effective as banging her head against the wall, but it was far more comfortable. "I _know_."

"I will cover for you, but only to a point. Miss one check-in—"

"How are we defining miss?" She interrupted. "Like two minutes late, or twenty, or what?"

"Darcy," he said, tone sharp. 

"No, I'm entirely serious," she insisted. "What's my buffer here? Like if I'm in the middle of something, do I have five minutes to finish, or is it go-time once the clock ticks past twelve?"

"If you're later than thirty minutes—"

"Got it."

"Good luck."

"Thanks."

Disconnecting the call, she let the phone drop to the bed next to her, and contemplated the ceiling for a long, long time. She'd been on three missions in her time with SHIELD. But, since she was including the fall of the New York base, and Natasha cajoling her into breaking into the Playground, mission was probably too generous a term. The only other mission was with Clint to provide support to another team, which mostly meant they sat on rooftops for three days and watched other people do things. 

This was a real mission, a scary mission, one unsanctioned by any agency (though, Phil's agreement to cover for her could probably be stretched into a pseudo-sanction by SHIELD, for whatever that was worth), and no backup nearby unless Clint finished whatever he was off doing. 

They were after a Hydra base. Just her and Bucky. 

Sweet baby Thor, what the hell was she doing?


	6. Chapter 6

"Barnes?" Darcy sat on the step of the open side-door of the ancient panel van, laptop balanced on her knees, comm set up on her left, and one of Bucky's spare Makarovs on her right. It wasn't what you'd call a roomy op vehicle, not exactly the high-class mission setup she'd seen at SHIELD, but Bucky'd refused to let her rent a better van with her fake documents. That was probably a good call, since who knew how this whole thing would go anyway. Especially since Bucky hadn't responded to her in — she checked the clock on the computer — three minutes. "Bucky, damn it, respond."

"Turn down the volume, Lewis. I hear you," he grumbled at last, but his voice sounded strange, though that could be distance and interference. When she'd picked the comm packet, she'd expected to be closer in, and not the three kilometers out he ended up insisting on. 

"Sweet baby Thor," she said on a relieved breath. "What's going on?"

"They hit me with something." And now she could hear the slur in his speech, and the words came out slowly. Not good.

Darcy tapped at the computer, trying again to get a look inside the base, their systems, their security monitors, anything that could give her some clue to his status. The connection was intermittent at best, but Bucky nixed the hardline in before she could even fully suggest it. She'd have to be far too close, and he was not at all okay with that. She'd argued for more, but he was unmovable. 

"Something like what?" When he didn't respond immediately, she changed over to the overlay of the base's schematics and searched frantically for the tracker she insisted he wear. But, the bunkers were deep and thick-walled. The signal was spotty, and there was something else interfering. The generators, maybe, or even some sort of jamming device. This whole connection thing was a fiasco from top to bottom. Her post-mission report was going to have a lot to say about all of this. "Barnes, come on. What are we talking here?"

"Don't know," he muttered. 

"Are we talking an RPG, or some sort of funky energy weapon?" She struggled to pull the tracker's signal out of the background noise. "Barnes."

"Think it was chemical. Tranq, maybe. You need to clear out."

She ignored that. "Where are you? I'm having a hard time getting a lock." The signal bounced around like a hyper-active two-year old, winking in and out of existence and jittering across the screen.

"Storage room. Near the south entrance," he managed. "Timer's set to go in four minutes. Clear out."

"Can you get out?"

"Give me a minute," he groaned and she thought she heard the sound of movement, but it was hard to say through the static.

"You need to get clear," she demanded, trying to stay cool and keep the panic out of her voice. If she lost him, Steve would never forgive her. Hell, she'd never forgive herself. 

"You need to go," he ordered, his breath coming out in jagged, jarring gasps.

"Yeah, no, not until you're clear," she insisted. "Seriously, Barnes. Up and at 'em." This was, by far, the most nerve-wracking thing she'd ever done. The clock ticking down, listening to his ragged, uneven breathing, all while she cooled her heels on a distant farm road in fucking Estonia of all places. 

"Bucky?"

A sharp crackle and low rumbling broke over the comms, and she winced. Three loud pops followed, and a harsh sigh. "Busy. Resistance."

"Oh, come on. It's just a few Hydra goons, right? You're the Winter Soldier," she cajoled, her own breathing speeding up, and her fingers starting to tremble with the rush of anxious adrenaline through her system. 

"Not helping, doll."

"I'm being encouraging," she sniffed, and finally managed to get a semi-solid lock on his tracker. He was close to the door, but not there yet. The clock kept ticking.

He grunted, and she thought she heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh. A dull, heavy thunk. 

"Clear," he gasped. "Go."

"You're out?" She asked, demanded.

"Go."

"Answer the question, damn it." Her voice quaked, and she didn't give one single damn. 

"I'm out. Fifty feet to the fence line. I'll meet you at—" He was cut off by a low rumble, that grew to a roar she could hear over the trees. His transmission died in a loud squawk of static. The explosion shook the surrounding countryside. 

"Bucky?" He didn't respond, and the only sound was the white noise of a dead connection. She shoved the equipment deeper into the van, tossed the laptop carelessly to one side, and snatched up the Makarov. Slamming the side door, she scrambled around the van to the driver's side, and jumped behind the wheel. 

"Shit, shit, shit." Wrestling the ancient van into gear, she took off down the rutted road, ignoring the clang of her equipment as it bounced freely around the back of the van. Going with her gut, she turned the vehicle towards the compound's south entrance. He could yell at her later, and if he'd survived the explosion, she'd happily listen to whatever he wanted to say. 

"Ops turn," she muttered to herself, echoing Coulson's warning in a mocking voice. "Yeah, they fucking do."

Her headlights picked out the edge of the fence-line through the black night and rolling smoke, and she followed along until she got to where she'd last had a read on him. Standing on the breaks, she sent the van into a fishtail, spraying a cloud of dust and rocks, and turning the van to give her some cover when she jumped out.

As demolitions went, Bucky did an A-plus job. The network of underground bunkers and tunnels had collapsed into smoldering pits, and the handful of above ground entrances and vent works belched thick clouds of smoke and flame. Through the chaos, it took her almost twenty minutes of stumbling around, half-blind, to find him.

It was dumb, stupid luck that she spotted him at all. Crumpled against the base of a tree about thirty feet from the fence, dressed in brown and black from head to toe, Bucky could have been any other clump of earth and debris from the explosion. The wind shifted at just the right moment, and when she ducked her head and turned away from the drifting smoke, the thin beam of her phone's flashlight glittered across the lens of his goggles. 

Twigs and rocks and pieces of shattered concrete bit into her legs when she dropped to her knees next to him. Her phone and the gun hit the ground on either side of her as she tried to figure out where to begin. Pulling the horrible mask-muzzle from his face, Darcy leaned in to look at him, but his face was a blank mask covered by blood, dirt, and black streaks of soot. 

"Shit, Barnes. Don't be dead," she pleaded, pulling next at the collar of his jacket, then jamming her fingers in next to his neck, searching for a pulse. When she felt the steady thump of his heart, she dropped back on her heels and let out a shaky breath. 

After taking a moment to steady herself, to let the tremors in her hands ease, she leaned towards him again, and tried to tug him flat to check for injuries. If he had a neck or back injury, she knew she had to be careful, but they were in hostile territory and she could hardly get him onto a backboard by herself anyway. Not that they had a backboard. Medevac was completely out of the question, too. 

"Just so you know, I am seriously questioning how cut out I am for this," she told his still form as she struggled with the thick leather of his jacket. "Does this thing have to have this many buttons? No really, what the hell is going on here? Not a fan of the gratuitous use of buttons." 

She managed to free the top three buttons and was reaching for the next when Bucky came to with a hard jerk. His metal hand shot up, striking unerringly for her throat, and with reflexes she didn't know she had, she threw herself backwards, landing hard on her back. 

Coughing, struggling to draw breath into her startled lungs, Darcy scrambled back away from him even farther, watching warily as his eyes scanned for a threat. The battle-ready tension went out of his body quickly, and he went limp again with a throaty, agonized groan. 

"Bucky?"

"Shto za chyort?" He mumbled as he shook his head and tried to lift his back. He dropped again to the ground. 

"Okay," she said shakily. "My Russian isn't good enough to talk you back from crazy homicidal land." Darcy pushed herself to her knees again, but didn't move any closer. 

"Darcy?" His voice was a harsh, raspy whisper. "Sorry, doll. You okay?"

"I'm fine. You good? I mean, can I come back over and check on you, or do you need another minute?"

Turning his head away from her, she caught the grimace that twisted across his face in the moment before he could collect himself. "Sorry," he muttered again. "Not gonna hurt you." He tried to push himself up, but only managed to half sit up before he slumped back against the tree. "Steve'd never forgive me."

Relieved that he sounded more like his not insane self, she returned to his side. "Funny, I thought the same thing when I was, you know, hoping you weren't dead."

Bucky laughed, a broken wheeze, and coughed. "Seems like a nice guy, but don't let it fool you. Holds a grudge like nobody's business."

"Is that so?" She asked, trying to keep him talking while she scrabbled through the leaves and clumps of dirt to find her phone. She found it after just a moment, and switched on its light. A quick pass of the light over his torso reminded her she still had to deal with his freaking buttons. 

"Took him on the roller coaster at Coney Island once," Bucky said, his tone distant as he lost himself somewhere in his head, in the place the memories of James Barnes still held on. She kept working, not wanting to interrupt. "He threw up. Was a few years, but he got me back."

She laughed a little, and finally triumphed over his jacket. "Sounds like you deserved it."

"Who me? Nah. He wanted to ride, just wouldn't say." He shifted his arms so she could peel open the leather of his jacket. 

She ran her hands down along his ribs, checking for soft spots. He grunted at one point, but nothing moved under her probing fingers. "Bruised. Maybe cracked," she reported. 

Bucky either didn't hear her or didn't care. "Ninety pounds and five foot nothing, I'd like to see the guy who could make him do anything he didn't want to. Stubborn as hell."

"Some things never change," she agreed, as her hands continued to search for injuries. His black undershirt was wet, but it was hard to tell what was sweat and what might be blood. 

"Ain't that the truth?" He tipped his head and focused on her. "He likes brunettes."

"So you've said," she muttered absently. 

"He had a thing for Rosalind Russell."

Her stomach roiled as the shirt became more sticky than damp, almost spongey in spots. "Did he?"

"Oh yeah."

"Well, who doesn't, really?"

"You could give her a run for her money, you know that, doll?"

"Wow," Darcy let out a surprised laugh. "So that's a 'yes' to the head injury." Something hard and sharp bumped against the edge of one questing hand. Drawing her hand back, she picked up her phone and tried not to puke at the six inches of metal sticking out of his stomach low on the right side. How many times was she going to pick slivers of metal and glass out of some part of his body? Was this her weird, gross fate? "God, Bucky."

Craning his head, he stared down at the chunk of debris. "Just pull it out."

Darcy shook her head. "I don't think you're supposed to do that. Like, it could do more damage."

"Aw for," he grumbled and, before she could stop him, yanked the shrapnel out with his left hand. The red of blood was almost surreally bright against the gleaming silver of his hand. 

Darcy tilted her head up to the smokey sky, taking deep breaths, trying not to hurl. She almost failed when he tossed the scrap away and it hit the ground with an audible thud. 

" _Barnes_ ," she groaned. Drawing one more deep breath, she pulled off her sweater and, bunching it into a tight ball, shoved it onto the wound hard enough to make him groan. "If you bleed out on me now, _I_ will never forgive you. And I will tell Steve what an idiot you were," she snarled at him fiercely. 

"He's the idiot," Bucky said with an edge of petulance and through teeth gritted with pain. 

"Yeah? You're both morons. Super Jackasses, the pair of you," she growled. Pushing his jacket further to the sides, with her phone light in one hand, pressing down on the sweater with the other, she tried to see if there were any additional nasty surprises he was ignoring. 

"It'll heal." He pushed her hand away and held the sweater in place himself. "You ever go dancing?"

Darcy blinked up at him in confusion. "Do I … what?"

"Dancing?" He repeated. "You ever go?"

"Uh, I've been known to hit a club or two," she acknowledged, her words slowed by the unexpected and bizarre nature of the conversation and their situation. "Every now and then I can talk Jane out of the lab."

He made a considering sound, and stared up at her. "We should go dancing sometime. You and me."

Darcy didn't know what to say to that. "Did you just … " Reaching forward, she grabbed his head in both hands and started poking around, checking for bumps and swelling. 

"Steve's got two left feet," Bucky said, his voice muffled by her arm in his face. "I'm a much better dancer."

"I don't find either of those statements hard to believe." Not finding anything obviously wrong with his head, she sat back and looked him over. "Tranq'd, huh?"

"Think so. Hit my right arm."

"Must be a hell of a tranquilizer," she observed dryly. Bucky asking her out dancing? While he was laying bleeding on the ground? Yeah, those were some good drugs.

"Yeah," he agreed, lifting his metal hand to rub it across his forehead.

"Though, I'm making a note," she continued, "subject overcame Hydra's mind wipe by getting stoned out of his mind."

"Don't remember everything."

"No, but something got loose." Darcy pushed herself up into a crouch, shoved her phone into a pocket, and the gun into her waistband — it might seem badass but the gun was cold and hard and dug uncomfortably into her lower back — then braced a hand on his shoulder. "Okay, so tell me you can walk, because there is no way in hell I can move you."

Taking a deep breath, he nodded and climbed slowly to his feet, cybernetic arm around Darcy's shoulders for balance, his other arm tucked tight to his stomach, holding the sweater in place. 

"So," he said on a long breath once he was up right and they started the long stumble to the van. "You never did answer me."

"Was there a question?" Darcy asked, paying more attention to keeping her footing with the solid weight of him threatening to knock her sideways. 

"We'll go dancing sometime, huh? What do you say?"

She missed her footing anyway, and he had to steady her. "You were serious?"

"Yeah. Come on, it'll be fun."

She didn't answer right away, a little too caught up in trying to picture the Winter Soldier hitting the town in a fun way, not a fire and murder way. They hadn't known each other for long, but he'd been quiet, reserved, grave even, the whole time. It was not an image that came in clear for her. Of course, he was completely baked right now, and that guy seemed like a hitting the town kind of guy. 

"Unless, I'm stepping on another fellow's toes," he said over her silence. "I know you said you and Steve—"

"Still not a thing." She looked up at him, filthy and bloody, his long hair damp with sweat and stuck together in clumps, and shrugged. "Tell you what, ask me again when you're not doped to the gills."

"I will." He grinned, and even through the dirt and gore, the smile made him look stupidly, boyishly handsome. Fuck.

"Uh huh." She had her doubts. Huge, honking ones. Still, she liked this version of Bucky, and she'd be sorry to see him go once the drugs wore off. But, it gave them something to work towards, and it was a pleasant confirmation of her belief that James Barnes was still in there somewhere. 

They made it to the van still standing, and Bucky crawled into the back, flipping himself over and letting out a long breath. Darcy dithered for a second or two, the need to get away warring with training that said she ought to try to stabilize his wound. Glancing over at the smoldering ruins of the Hydra base, she decided they needed to leave while they could. Somebody was going to wonder what the big boom was and come looking — either locals or Hydra, and she wasn't up to dealing with either. 

The nearest village was six miles away, and Bucky's safe house, an abandoned warehouse, was another half hour past that. God willing he wouldn't bleed out before she got him back. If they could just make it there, she'd call for backup, and she didn't care who it was. Her dad, Phil, Nat and Clint, whoever. Heck, maybe Thor could swing the Bifrost their way.

Poking at Bucky one last time, making sure he was still breathing, he grunted irritably and waved her off. She shut the side door, climbed into the driver's seat, and yelped when she sat back on the gun. Making a face, she pulled it carefully from her waistband and shoved the gun under the seat. Then she put the van into gear and tried to remember how to get to the main road. 

Fifteen minutes later, as they were just entering the village, a trio of police cars shot by. Darcy held her breath and watched them in the side mirrors until they were out of sight. Slowing down, her palms sweaty on the steering wheel, she tried to drive through town all casual-like and prayed they'd pass by unnoticed and unmentioned. Fortunately, it was still early, only a few other trucks on the road, local famers getting a start on their day before the sun was up. Darcy hoped she looked like any other productive early-bird. Still, she didn't relax until they were through and back on empty road. 

"You still alive back there?" She called over her shoulder.

"Yeah. Med kit?"

Reaching down a hand, she sought blindly under the passenger seat for the kit, and finding it, slid it back to him. "Here."

"Got it," he grunted, and she heard him shuffling around. "Anybody following?"

"No. It's all clear." Licking her lips nervously, she checked the mirrors again anyway. "I guess you got them all."

"Hope so." He hissed and growled in Russian and she chanced a look back at him to watch him pulling up his shirt to pack his wound with gauze. "We should find a place to ditch the van."

"You can't walk," she pointed out, turning back to the road, but waving a hand at him. 

"Sure I can."

"We're miles from the warehouse."

An irritated grunt was his only reply and Darcy kept driving. 

Pulling into the old industrial park forty minutes later, the sky was just beginning to blush with sunrise, Darcy maneuvered them slowly, warily to the warehouse. She stopped short, two buildings down, when she spotted a large black SUV parked in front of her goal. "Well, shit."

"What?" Bucky pulled himself up and stuck his head into the driver's cabin.

"Did you invite guests?"

"No," he said sounding grim, his voice dropped low and cold. The Winter Soldier was back. Over the sound of the idling engine, Darcy heard the slip and click of a magazine, the metal on metal finality of a slide snapping into place, as he checked and readied one of his pistols. "I'm going out the side, when I'm clear, get the hell out of here."

"Okay, but you're hurt."

"I've had worse," he replied. It seemed to be his default response to injury. Which was not comforting. Especially given the nature of this wound. What was worse? 

Darcy raised her eyes heavenward. "Sif save me from stupidly macho men. How about if we both just leave?"

"And if they go in pursuit?"

"Good thing I have a sniper with me, right?" She put the van in reverse, but before she could give it some gas, she heard the side door of the van bang open. "Are you kidding me?"

"Look," he said.

"No, come on. Let's just clear out."

"No, look," he ordered, pointing a metal finger at the windshield.

Squinting in the faint pre-dawn she picked out a figure in black stepping out of the warehouse. The van tipped slightly as Bucky moved around in the back, and then she heard the door slam shut again. Leaning forward over the steering wheel, she looked closer at the figure. He walked towards the back of the SUV and then turned to face her, his arms crossing over his chest. She went cold with recognition. "Holy shit." Scrambling out of the van, she ran around the front and looked around for Bucky. "Don't shoot," she called. "Barnes!"

Bucky was already halfway up the rusty drainpipe. He paused and glanced down at her.

"It's Coulson," she told him. His gaze shifted over to the Director and they stared at each other across the dim yard. "Shooting him will seriously damage your chances of getting a dance," she warned. "I'm just saying."

Bucky hesitated for another moment before simply letting go of the pipe and dropping to the ground. It would have been graceful if he hadn't stumbled and fallen back against the wall, clutching his side. 

Darcy rolled her eyes. "You are going to give me a fricking ulcer." Bucky gave her a dark look and struggled back to his feet. 

Shaking her head, Darcy took a couple of steps towards Coulson. "Hey Phil."

"You missed your check in," he called, not sounding very happy. 

With a grimace, Darcy held out an arm, pointing to Bucky. "I'm really sorry about that, but somebody got themselves tranq'd and then blown up." Bucky snorted behind her, and she jumped at his unexpected nearness. She'd honestly expected they'd have to pick him up off the ground. She turned a small glare on him, but his eyes were fixed on Coulson. 

When she turned back to Phil, May had joined him from somewhere, a pistol in each hand. Leather creaked and groaned as Bucky tensed and drew his own weapon. Even from a distance, Darcy could tell May's eyes were tracking his movements. Even when she referred to him as the Winter Soldier in her head, she forgot sometimes what that actually meant, just who the Winter Soldier was. To her, he was somebody else, somebody who fell somewhere between the Soldier and James Barnes, but she couldn't really blame May for her wariness. Glancing back at Bucky she tried to see him through Phil and May's eyes, and the battered, tired man who asked her to go dancing just an hour ago, was replaced by one of Hydra's most lethal weapons — the blood and grime of battle making him look even more terrifyingly fierce. 

Coulson's own gaze drifted from May to the Soldier, and then back to Darcy. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine. Bucky," she placed a heavy emphasis on his nickname, but he'd never seemed less like Bucky to her, "is a little dinged up. He swears he won't bleed out, but—"

"It's not that bad," he grumbled, still watching May, who was still watching him. 

The tension went out of Coulson's shoulders and he stepped forward, partially blocking May's shot. Darcy did the same, getting in Bucky's way, ignoring the irritated grunt that told her how much he didn't like that. 

"Sgt. Barnes," Coulson greeted, walking slowly in their direction, careful not to move too quickly or too threateningly. When he got close enough, he held out a hand. "It's a true honor to meet you. I'm Phil Coulson."

Bucky sighed and gave Darcy an exasperated look, but he holstered his weapon, and took Coulson's hand in a brief shake. "Director. Lewis talks about you a lot," he said simply. 

"Did you get what you were after here?" 

"Yeah."

"Excellent," Coulson said with a thin-lipped smile. "I look forward to hearing about it. Let's get you back to the Bus, and we can see to your injuries."

"Not necessary," Bucky said quickly, taking half a step back. 

Darcy huffed and grumbled, "Come on, Barnes. You can at least grab a shower and let somebody give you a band-aid."

Bucky gave her a flat look, his cool blue eyes narrowed. She stared back, eyebrows raised. 

"Sgt. Barnes," Coulson broke in before the staring contest could become too much of a stand-off. "You have my word, nobody will do anything to you that you don't approve of. And we will drop you off where ever you'd like to go. We won't hold you."

Bucky didn't move and didn't say anything. 

Darcy sighed. "You've trusted me this far, and, you know, I think I've done a pretty good job at not letting you down," she told Bucky in a low voice. "I've stared down the depthless disappointment of Captain America for you. Got lectured by the Director of SHIELD for you. Lied to my dad, Jane, Thor, for you. Went with you on an op to flipping Estonia. But, hey, if this is a bridge too far—"

"Christ, Darcy. Fine." He gave her a bemused look, and then nodded over at Coulson. "Thank you, Director."

"Of course. We took the liberty of gathering your gear from the warehouse." Coulson glanced past them. "Do you need anything from the van?"

"Yeah," Darcy said with a grimace. "Give me ten minutes to clean it up. And, uh, we maybe sort of boosted it."

Coulson's lips twitched and he nodded. "Wipe it down, and I'll tip off the locals once we're in the air."

She gave him a sharp nod. "Got it, chief." A quick glance up at Bucky found him standing as straight as he could, which meant he was at something of a looming hunch. "Are you going to stand there? You want to go sit down in the car, or something?"

"No."

"Okay." She shot a look over to Coulson. "If he falls, just let him. Seriously, he weighs like a ton. Don't hurt yourself."

Bucky turned his head slowly and stared down at her, his face devoid of anything but the Winter Soldier's icy regard. She returned it with a tight, sarcastic smile, and pointed a finger at Coulson. "Ten minutes."


	7. Chapter 7

Ten minutes for cleanup turned into something more like twenty, while Darcy and Coulson made a very thorough sweep for any evidence in the van, and packed up the sparse, cobbled-together surveillance setup. 

Once finished, Darcy took a moment to tuck a handful of Euros behind the driver's side sun visor. They'd boosted the van a couple days earlier from a quiet side-street in a residential area, and she imagined the owner was having a pretty crappy week. Coulson caught her at it, but didn't say a word; he smiled slightly and tipped his head in approval. 

Darcy darted a glance over at Bucky, surprised again, as she was each time she looked his way, to find him still standing, and not, in fact, flat on his face on the concrete. He refused to sit, refused to let anybody look at his wound, and chose, instead, to lean rigidly against the side of the SUV. May stood just as rigidly at her station at the rear of the vehicle. The other agent had, at least, holstered her pistols. 

"They're a fun pair," Darcy muttered to Coulson, jerking her chin at the SUV.

"I'm sure they've got a lot to talk about," he replied dryly. Darcy bit her lips to hold back her laughter. 

"So, funny running into you here," Darcy commented as she picked up the laptop and light duffle, while Coulson closed up the van. 

"We were in the area," he told her with deadpan innocence. He hefted the last box of equipment and began the walk back to the SUV and their stoic, presently humorless, companions.

"Sure," she said, following him and snuffling with amusement. 

"On another matter," he continued loftily. 

"Right." She grinned over at him. "You can totally admit you just wanted to meet Bucky. I won't tell anybody."

Coulson smiled his bland, enigmatic smile. "Do you have any idea how big a headache your father would be if I left you without backup?"

"You're saying you followed us."

"I'm saying I've got enough on my plate without ending up on his bad side." He paused as May opened the back gate of the SUV, then he and Darcy loaded in the rest of the equipment. 

"Hey, Agent May, good to see you again," Darcy greeted. 

"You, too, Lewis." She tossed a wary glance Bucky's way. "Coulson said you'd made a new friend."

Darcy waved a hand at Bucky, drawing his attention, though she'd never actually lost it. "Bucky Barnes, Agent Melinda May. May, Bucky Barnes."

May nodded over at him, her face a severe, blank mask. "Sergeant, an honor."

Bucky nodded back, and Darcy thought he was looking a little pale. It was hard to tell under the blood and grime, though.

"We should get moving," Coulson said, opening the rear passenger door for Bucky. Bucky tried to stare him down, but Coulson smiled back imperturbably until he climbed slowly into the back. 

"God," Darcy huffed. "So much work."

"You know how to pick 'em," May said with a wry twist to her lips that was almost like a smile, as they rounded the other side of the SUV.

"It's true," Darcy sighed. "I'm cursed."

"Family legacies can be hell," May told her with a cryptic dip of her head before she jumped up into the front passenger seat.

Darcy puzzled over that as she got in the back with Bucky.

"Still breathing?" She asked.

"I'm fine," he grumbled.

She leaned across the seat towards him, scanning his face. "Are you pouting?"

"No."

"Right." She snorted and sat back. "The Winter Soldier, ladies and gentlemen." He turned his head and gave her his blank, frosty death glare. She titled her head to one side, considered the look on his face, and then returned his expression with a rather insouciant one of her own. "Weirdly immune to that right now."

With a sigh, he turned to stare out the window. 

"Hey, Phil," she called, watching Bucky out of the corner of her eye. "You've, like, scotchgarded the upholstery, right? Leaking assassins are such a hazard in this line of work."

"It's a teflon treatment. Blood washes right off," he told her, an unmistakable hint of amusement in his voice.

"Awesome," she agreed.

"Are you trying to bug me?" Bucky asked, attempting to growl, but it sounded more like a whine to her ears. 

"I'm trying to keep you awake," she pointed out, still unbothered by his grumpiness. "You've gone sort of fish-belly white over there."

He managed a weary smirk. "Worried about me, doll?"

"Uh, yeah, hello, you got blown up. On my watch!" She pointed at him and flailed her arm around a little. "Geez, one field op, and I get you—"

"You didn't do it," he cut her off with a shake of his head. "Somebody tripped a failsafe. Probably trying to disarm a charge. They blew early, is all. Wouldn't have even gotten far enough to plant them without your help."

"Okay," she mumbled.

"Good."

They were silent for a moment as Coulson drove, but Darcy's mind was churning. 

"Okay, but," she burst out when the thought in her head was too much to contain anymore, "that is the dumbest failsafe ever. What the hell?"

Bucky grunted but said nothing. 

Darcy ignored him ignoring her, and continued on, gaining a head of steam, because there was a lot of fail in that failsafe and she had things to say. Yes, she did. "How about from now on we skip working from the evil villains' 'our operatives are expendable' playbook?"

"Check the charges next time," May suggested from the front, sounding actually entertained. 

"You bet I will. How stupid is that? Who does Hydra recruit as their foot soldiers anyway? There's dumb and then there's _dumb_. 'Join Hydra and you can be a stormtrooper and a red shirt at the same time. Hail Hydra.' I can't even …" Her mouth worked for another second, but she really couldn't think of anything else that could express the depths of her disbelief and absolute scorn. 

"You done?" Bucky asked.

"No. I'm sure I can come up with more." Darcy was not about to let the idea that they might get blown up because somebody tripped a failsafe continue as an acceptable part of their modus operandi. Sure, there was a risk in everything they did, but there was acceptable risk, and then there was pure, profound stupidity. So what if somebody disarmed a charge? If they missed their shot one day, there was always tomorrow, but not if they got themselves horribly killed by their own weapons. 

Bucky huffed. "Great."

"Hey, you asked for my help," she shot back. "Part of the package is helping you not get dead. Suck it up."

"Hydra didn't really care," he mumbled.

"SHIELD does. Well, we do now." She looked up towards Coulson, and narrowed her eyes. "We'd better."

"We do," Coulson agreed. 

Bucky didn't seem to know what to say to that and turned his gaze once more out the window.

By the time they got back to the Bus, Bucky was still conscious but he was shaky and sweating freely. He let Coulson help him out of the SUV, but he tensed when Triplett approached to offer his own help. Trip picked up on the body language and stepped back, an easy smile on his face and something like wonder in his eyes. 

Simmons appeared next, pulling on a pair of nitrile gloves, and smiling brightly. "Sgt. Barnes. What a pleasure to meet you, sir. I'm Jemma Simmons. Let's get you into the medical bay and we'll have a look at your injuries, shall we?"

Bucky's eyes darted from Simmons over to Darcy, maybe looking for confirmation or support. Darcy stepped up next to him and greeted Simmons with a smile. "He was hit with some sort of tranq, too. At least we think that's what it was."

"How was it administered, Sergeant?"

"Dart in my arm," he reported in a stiff, formal voice. 

Simmons nodded, smile still firmly in place. "We'll do some blood work; make sure it's nothing nasty."

"Must have been a hell of a tranq to knock him for a loop," Darcy put in. 

Simmons sighed and began leading Bucky towards the medical bay. "We know so little about Hydra's super soldier process." She glanced back at Bucky and frowned, a true, deep sadness in her eyes. "I'm so sorry for everything you've been through."

Looking bemused at her concern, Bucky settled on an uncomfortable, one-shouldered shrug. 

They made it to the med bay, Bucky still standing, though his steps slowed and each inch forward was more of a struggle. He didn't even protest when Coulson and Darcy helped him up onto the table and tugged off his filthy leather jacket.

Once they had him settled, and after Simmons approved his placement, Coulson tipped his head back at the door. "We'll be right outside if you need anything, Sgt. Barnes."

Darcy lingered for a moment, watching Simmons prep for treatment until Bucky tapped her arm. "It's fine, doll."

"Right outside." She pointed a finger at the door and met his eyes, dipping her head to give him her most serious and most reassuring look.

"Mother hen," he mumbled weakly, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

"Whatever, Barnes." Darcy flicked his knee and left the room to stand outside the observation window with Coulson, who'd been joined by Skye and Trip.

"Bucky Freaking Barnes," Skye muttered, shooting Darcy a wide-eyed look. "Holy cow."

Trip shook his head and leaned around Skye to get a clearer look through the window. "Granddad used to talk about him a lot. Can't believe it."

"I know," Skye agreed. "It's one thing to know he's alive, but to actually see him?"

Trip turned to Darcy, who was watching closely as Simmons pulled away the blood-soaked sweater and started to cut off his shirt. "And he doesn't remember anything?"

"Meh." Darcy shrugged and held out a hand, tipping it from side to side. "It's a crapshoot. The Hydra tranq seems to have knocked some memories loose. Oh yeah," she exclaimed and looked over at Coulson. "I meant to note that down, for real, for science."

Next to her, with something like awe or horror in her voice, Skye whispered, "His arm …"

"It's awesome," Darcy said. "Full articulation." When she caught Skye staring at her, she cleared her throat. "I mean, you know, awful what they did to him, and that he lost his arm, but it's a hell of a prosthetic."

Coulson muttered something behind her that included the word 'Stark'. Darcy shot him a sour look over her shoulder.

Trip chuckled softly, but admitted, "It is pretty cool."

"Right?"

Skye flinched and sucked in a hissing breath through her teeth when Simmons peeled away the last bit of Bucky's shirt. "Look at the scarring, though."

"I don't think Hydra cared a lot about aesthetics when they did the grafting," Darcy said.

"How are you so casual about that?"

Darcy chewed on her lower lip and watched Simmons talking to Bucky, still somehow managing to hold on to that cheery smile, though it was starting to look a little ragged and forced. Bucky could be tough to be around, for a lot of reasons. Really awful, heartbreaking reasons.

"I guess I've just had time to get used to it," Darcy told Skye. "And we blew up a Hydra base this morning, and that is hella therapeutic. I mean, after I got past the panic that I'd got him killed." 

Skye gave her skeptical look, her eyebrows raised and her head cocked to one side. Darcy tried again to explain, "I don't forget what they did to him. I don't need to see his arm to be pissed. But, just add it to the list of reasons to take down Hydra. SHIELD's getting back on its feet, and isn't that why we're still here?" She shrugged. "He's back, he's free of them, and they're going to regret they didn't just leave him for dead seventy odd years ago. That's a thought I just straight up enjoy."

The other agent accepted that with a jerky half-nod, and they watched Simmons begin to flush out the wound in his side. She was still talking to him, gesturing to things as she worked, probably walking him through what she was doing, but it was hard to tell if he was hearing her — his gaze was blank and fixed on the ceiling. 

"Is he … I mean, is he okay?" Skye asked. "After what you said last time —"

Darcy let out a long breath and considered Bucky. "Honestly, not really. But, every time I see him he's less creepy detached. It was bad, that first time I met him. He was seriously scary."

"This isn't scary?" Skye waved a hand at the window.

"Not compared to before."

"My granddad always said he was a good guy to have at your back," Trip offered. "Barnes saved his life more than once."

Darcy smiled at him, grateful for Trip's even temper and willingness to see past the Winter Soldier. "He grew up keeping Steve out of trouble. Obviously, excellent training for war." Trip laughed but Darcy shook her head seriously. "The super soldier process made Steve a tank, but it didn't change his personality. So, just imagine, that little guy would have still made that run at that Hydra base. That's what Bucky grew up with." She spread her hands and appealed to her companions. "No, really, can you imagine? How he never just put Steve on a leash, I don't know."

Coulson gave her a small, offended glare. 

"What? He was totally like one of those little Chihuahuas who;s always going after the Rottweiler. You know I'm right." Shoving an arm between Coulson and a startled Skye, Darcy hit the intercom. "Hey, Bucky."

He jerked, which earned her a glare from Simmons. Lifting his head slightly, he nodded at the window. 

"How did you never put Steve on a leash?"

After a moment of staring, his lips tipped up into a small smirk and he dropped his head back. "Kinda did once. He kept jawing at this guy. I tied a rope around his chest. But, he always had his pop's pen knife in his pocket."

"Aw, man." Darcy shook her head. "You should've frisked him."

"Shoulda," Bucky agreed. "Guy got him anyway, but Steve popped him good in the eye. Tough to live down the little guy giving you that big a shiner." He laughed, a rusty, tired expulsion of breath. "Steered clear of Steve after that, though."

"I'm sure you had nothing to do with that," Darcy told him, a knowing, teasing lilt to her voice. 

"Not that time," Bucky denied with a shake of his head. "Steve was pretty steamed about the rope. Had to let him cool off for a few days. He wanted to handle it himself. Had to let him."

"How old were you?"

"Dunno. Just kids. Ten, eleven maybe?"

Darcy grinned and made another note in her mental file on Bucky's memories. "Man, Steve leaves out all the good parts. He only ever says, 'this one time I got into a scrape'."

"Oh, I've got some good stories, doll."

"Can't wait." Simmons, threaded needle in hand, was giving Darcy an impatient look. "Sorry, I'll let you get back to, you know, stitching him up."

"Thanks ever so," Simmons replied with tart politeness. 

Darcy released the intercom and stood back. Coulson's eyes were narrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line. She cocked her head to one side and gave him an innocent look. "I was curious. And also, I was curious. Kinda wanted to see how much he was remembering."

Coulson's head dropped back slowly in understanding and his gaze returned to Bucky. "And, what do you think?"

"I think it's more than he remembered yesterday," she reported. "The first time we met, he kept saying he didn't remember, but then he said something about Steve. The memories are still there. At least some of them. Remembering something from when they were eleven, that seems pretty detailed, right?" She looked up at Coulson for confirmation. 

"It does," Coulson acknowledged.

"I don't know if it will last." Darcy frowned and shrugged her shoulders, resigned. As nice as it had been to see a glimmer of James Barnes, there was still an awful long way for him to go. 

"It's something." Coulson straightened. "Let's debrief in my office. Barnes will be fine with Simmons."

"Okay." She looked over at Skye and Trip. "Just don't push him to remember or anything; he shuts down pretty quick."

Skye raised her eyebrows and titled her head towards Bucky. "It doesn't look like he actually talks to anybody but you," she observed.

"He talked to Simmons and Coulson."

Coulson gazed thoughtfully at Bucky. "No, I think Skye's right. He only answered us because he had to."

"Well," Darcy said and pursed her lips as she thought about that. It wasn't like she'd really seen him around other people; maybe Skye was right. "Okay. So, just point him to the showers then, and let him brood. But, please, point him to the shower."

***

Coulson encouraged Darcy to clean up before their debrief, she hadn't actually realized how much of Bucky's blood she had on her until Skye pointed it out. 

Alone in the bathroom, staring at her blood-stained arms in the mirror, for a second she saw him crumpled against that tree, and the spurt of fear that she'd lost Bucky, that she'd lost Steve's best friend, tried to swallow her again. She yanked her soiled shirt over her head and threw it to the other side of the bathroom, then turning on the water in the sink as hot as she could stand, she spent a long time scrubbing away the blood and dirt and memories. 

When she was as clean as she was going to get, she turned the faucet to cold, and splashed some water on her face. A few steadying breaths later, she was able to meet her own eyes in the mirror. Skye had left her with a black t-shirt and a gray hoodie, and with those on, and her hands free of the stick and stink of blood, she felt a little more like herself.

"Feeling better?" Coulson asked, glancing up from his tablet as Darcy stepped into his office.

"Sure," she shrugged, taking a seat opposite him. "No. Jesus, I don't know." Rubbing a hand across her face, she glanced around at his collection of vintage tchotchkes. "I don't know if I'm cut out for this field work thing."

Coulson set down his tablet, and leaned forward over his desk. "Tell me what happened."

Darcy filled him in on the details, from meeting Bucky at the pub in Manhattan, to right before they pulled into the warehouse yard. Coulson listened quietly, asked a few questions for clarification, and nodded at all the right spots. Once she wrapped up, she slumped back into the chair, feeling worn but unburdened. 

Coulson let her report play over in his mind for a minute before giving her an encouraging smile. "It sounds to me like you did well. You didn't know about the failsafe."

"Failsafe my ass," she grumbled, twisting and untwisting the strings of the hoodie around her fingers.

He snorted, amused. "Next time, ask."

"Next time I'm providing the triggering device," Darcy told him firmly. "I'm not going to let him keep working off whatever crappy Hydra plans he's got stuck in his head."

"Good idea," Coulson agreed and sat back, propping one arm on his desk, and watching her for a moment. "You did everything you were supposed to, you provided close support, you worked to give him the intel he needed, and when the op turned, you got him out. That's your job, and you did it." He gave her a wry smile. "And, also next time, take two minutes to radio in. We could have come to you and avoided that warehouse scene."

Darcy grimaced and nodded. "Yeah. That was almost bad."

"Little bit. Good reaction time, though."

"His or mine?"

"Both." 

They sat in a contemplative but comfortable silence for a minute or two, until Coulson spoke again; "You've done good work with him. You said you wanted to give him somebody he could trust, I'd say you succeeded." 

"Every time I see a little Bucky in him it feels like victory," she admitted quietly. 

"It should. The Winter Soldier was a bogeyman in the intelligence community for decades, not many people believed he was real. Of course, you know about Natasha's run in with him. I don't think I've ever seen her that shaken." He tilted his head back, staring thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "Strange days."

"The strangest," Darcy agreed. 

"Bucky Barnes," he said in a voice hushed by amazement, maybe even a degree of incredulity. 

"I'm getting used to the idea," she told him with a hint of a laugh. She understood the disbelief. "But, every once in a while, it's like, bam! Surreal. I used to let my little brother play him when we were kids."

"My friend Scott had that honor," Coulson said.

Darcy laughed and they smiled at each other in mutual acknowledgement and understanding. They had always had a funny sort of bond through Cap, after all. 

"You know, you've come a long way since New Mexico. I'm proud of you," Coulson praised with genuine sincerity. 

Darcy squirmed in her seat and looked away. "It feels like forever ago. Lifetimes."

"In my case, two." Darcy gaped at him and he cocked his head. "Too soon?"

Darcy raised her eyebrows and waved a hand at him. "Hey, if you can laugh about it —"

"Only sometimes," he said with a small, uncomfortable shift of his shoulders. 

"You're okay?"

"Getting there."

A sharp rap on the door drew their attention and Skye stuck her head in. "Sorry to interrupt, but Sgt. Barnes is stitched up and cleaned up and kind of being supremely, uncomfortably intense, so …" She bared her teeth in a hesitant and uneasy grimace and hooked a thumb over her shoulder. 

Coulson smirked at Darcy. "Better go see to your asset, agent."

Darcy made a show of pushing herself up out of the chair, and sighed dramatically. "Hot assassins are so much work."

Coulson picked up his tablet, bending back to his work, and said, with an absent air, "Remind me to tell you about the day Barton brought Romanoff in."

"Wow," Darcy let out a breath and laughed. "That is a story I totally want to hear."

"It's a good one," Coulson assured her and waved her on her way.

Darcy followed Skye through the plane to the lounge where Skye stopped at the threshold. "We found some of Ward's clothes for him. I'm gonna go —" she pointed off in the general direction of anywhere else, "be not around."

"He's not that bad," Darcy protested, but it was a half-hearted one, because, yeah, he could be that bad. She just felt she had to protest out of a sense of duty to him and his progress. He really was about a million times less scary than he'd been in DC. And that was a thought that really brought home just how, apparently, out of her mind she'd been that afternoon she met Bucky. Still, it hadn't turned out too awful, a few weird bumps in the road aside. 

"Sure," Skye said slowly, clearly not buying the protest. 

"Oh, hey, did he say anything?" Darcy asked before Skye could escape. "I've never actually seen him around other people, you made me curious when you said that about him not talking."

Skye nodded in understanding. "Yeah, no. I mean, he'd say 'yes' or 'no' if he had to, but otherwise he'd just sort of stare or nod."

"Gotcha. Thanks."

Skye gave her a quick wave and then disappeared to her elsewhere.

Darcy turned and took a moment to observe Bucky, before she approached. He was sitting on the couch, his hair hanging damp around his face, hands resting stiffly on his thighs, and an icy, blank thousand-yard stare in his eyes. Supremely intense was an accurate description. 

He was dressed in a gray, SHIELD branded t-shirt, and a pair of black tactical pants. His brown jacket was draped on the end of the couch, cleaned of blood, but still scuffed and dirty, and she could see the ragged hole on one side. She sucked in a deep breath though her nose — it would be a while before she could fully shake the image of him bleeding on the ground. 

"So, you look better," she greeted, walking over with what she hoped was a casual stroll, and took a seat on the couch next to him.

He shrugged, acknowledging her presence, but his empty gaze never wavered.

"And back to chatty," she noted with equanimity. This reversion was always going to happen, she'd known it all along, still, she would miss the less burdened version of Bucky. But, having caught that glimpse, she was more resolved than ever that they'd find him again. "I'll take it the tranq's fading."

He blinked and glanced over at her. "Guess so."

"Still remembering things?" He shrugged again. "Rosalind Russell?" 

His lips twitched at that, an almost smile. "I stand by what I said — you could give her a run for her money."

Laughing and turning towards him, she drew her knee up onto the couch and propped an arm against the back. "What did Simmons say about your wound?"

"Keep it clean, keep it dry," he recited, his voice flat and uninterested. He didn't care about his physical state, and Darcy wanted, once again, to literally strangle every person who ever hurt him and made him think that wasn't worth more than being a piece of cannon fodder. "She figures the stitches could come out in a week."

"Anything else?" She pressed. "Head injury or anything?"

He shook his head. "She'll send you a report about the tranq, but since it's already wearing off, she wasn't worried."

"What are the odds it was tailored to you? They've tried to grab you before."

He shrugged, still unconcerned. "Probably. Still could have fought them off. The gut wound laid me out, not the drugs."

"Guess it could be super soldier strength," Darcy mused. "They've got to be worried about Steve, too."

He frowned at that. If he didn't care so much about himself, something in him still cared what happened to Steve. That was a relief to see. "Could be."

"I'll get the report from Simmons and pass it on to Bruce," she said. "See what he can make of it, and if there's, like, a counter agent, or something."

"Good."

"So, where should they drop you?"

"New York's fine."

"Want to swing by the Tower?" His face fell into a surly glower, and she rolled her eyes. "Or not. Well, whatever. I'll wear you down eventually."

Bucky drew in a deep, slow breath, wincing only a little, and let it out, dropping his head wearily to the back of the couch. "Probably."


	8. Chapter 8

"I really don't know anything."

"I don't think that's true."

It was the same conversation they'd been having for … well, honestly Darcy was starting to lose track. Three days, she was pretty sure. So, that would make this the fourth. 

Halfway to a Stark Industries facility in upstate, she'd been run off the road. Things got a little vague after that. Time, place, everything except that she was being held by Hydra. They made sure to be very clear about that. 

"I was just sort of the babysitter," Darcy told the man she'd nicknamed Humorless von Interrogator. 

"But you reported to Director Fury."

"Who didn't like me all that much, to be honest." She made a little 'meh' face and shrugged. 

"Why on Earth would he put you in such a sensitive position, then?" Humorless asked, with a suggestive lilt to his voice. 

"You'd have to ask him. Oh, oops, you can't, you _murdered_ him," she snarled. "Bummer."

"Do you truly believe he's dead?"

Darcy blinked twice, cocked her head and looked at him. "Should I not?"

Humorless nodded slowly and hummed under his breath, looking down at his monitors. "Interesting."

"If you say so. If he's alive, I'm pretty sure I'm the last person he'd think to tell."

"Then what use are you to us?"

It was hard to keep her temper, her nerves were fraying, she was worn, scared, and overwhelmed, but all she had was the little bit of control she could exercise over herself. A very little bit, and she fought for every moment she could hold on to it.

Darcy gave him a hard stare. "Well, you're the idiots who grabbed me. You tell me." 

Humorless bared his teeth in a grim smile. "You were so very low level. Why do you think Director Fury put you in the position he did?"

Darcy banged her head on the back of the large, creepy, sci-fi chair she'd been strapped into. "I don't know."

"Guess," he ordered. 

"Thor, maybe? He likes me okay. Maybe Fury thought if I could deal with the God of Thunder, then I could probably keep an eye on the others. It's not like I was out in the field with them, or anything. Also, it's worth repeating, Thor likes me. Think about that."

The man snorted and typed at his computer for a moment.

Darcy continued. "I don't know what you think is going to happen here."

Ignoring her, he glanced up from his monitor and gave her a long, cold, considering look. "And would Thor do anything to get you back?"

"Define anything?" Humorless smirked at her, and she clued in immediately. "Oh, like a ransom deal?"

"Well, if you're not useful to us in other ways," he told her with a delicate and studied shrug of indifference. 

"I guess it depends on what you want."

"The tesseract was returned to Asgard."

Darcy laughed at that. Go big or go home, she supposed. "Wow. Well, geez, I don't know. Thor might like me, but I doubt Odin gives a crap."

He worked away at his computer for a few long seconds and watched his monitor. A frown creased his brow at whatever he was reading. "But, I think maybe you're more useful than you're giving yourself credit for."

"I get that a lot. Jane says it all the time."

Raising an eyebrow, he sat back and nodded at her with something like approval. Bile rose in her throat. "You're very good. You tell the truth. What better way to defeat a lie detector? But this one isn't like others." He gave her the smug, superior look of somebody who'd caught her out. 

Darcy returned his smug look with an irritatingly amused one of her own. "Will it tell you if I'm a replicant?"

"A what?"

"The Voight-Kampff test? _Blade Runner_? No? Netflix it, dude."

That got under his skin, and his nostrils flared in irritation; the first real sign of emotion Darcy'd managed to provoke. It was only too bad that her feeling of victory was tainted by the creeping curl of fear up her spine. 

"You are keeping things back," he accused.

"Duh. No kidding."

"We are trying this the kind way; you will not like our other ways," Humorless warned. 

She knew that, and she'd wondered why they hadn't used anything more extreme on her — physical torture, mind control, whatever nasty tricks they had in their box of evil. Not that she wanted to see any of that, but she thought the idea of it, the threat of it, was a torture all its own. A fact they were well aware of. 

"Well, here's the thing, though," Darcy told him, trying to keep her voice light, and not like she was terrified of the thought of whatever their other tortures might be, "your questions suck. I don't know what you want, not a mind reader. I was a little bummed, but not surprised I guess, when I found out there aren't actually any confirmed, documented mind readers. But, I knew this psychic once—"

Humorless von Interrogator stood abruptly, his chair slamming back into the wall behind his desk, and without a word, he left the room. 

Darcy held her breath for a moment, almost expecting him to come back in with a cattle prod or something. When he didn't reappear right away, she let out the breath and relaxed back in the chair, feeling spent. She actually didn't know what, exactly, they wanted from her, and trying to anticipate the questions and come up with an appropriate dodge was wearing her down. That was, no doubt, the point of these repeated sessions, and the same list of questions, asked over and over until the moment she slipped. 

There was no time in this gloomy pit, and she wasn't sure how long she'd been held. Four days of interrogation in the sci-fi chair of no-lumbar-support, but before that she'd spent days alone in a cold, concrete cell. At her best guess they'd grabbed her almost two weeks ago, but it was all so hazy. They'd drugged her when they grabbed her, and then she woke some time later in the black cell. For three or four days they left her there in the dark, meals were delivered at irregular intervals, and there was no hint as to the passage of time. 

On the fifth or sixth or whatever day it was, the lights turned on. Vicious, unrelenting brightness after the days of dark. And for another three or four or more days, she lived under that harsh, burning glow. She never saw another person, nobody spoke to her, her meals were shoved through a thin panel at the bottom of the door. The room itself contained nothing but a built in toilet and sink, a bare mattress on the floor, and a single security camera high up in one corner where she couldn't hope to reach it. 

On the second or third day in that brightness, they began pumping in a high-pitched tone, almost like radio squeal. It varied in its duration and intensity, with no obvious pattern, and Darcy could honestly say she gained a real appreciation for how their unsettling games of light and dark and silence and noise could actually drive somebody nuts. Including her, probably, if it went on long enough. It was well established that Starks were already a little crazy, so she had hope that she could hold out for a little while. Plus, she knew, _knew_ without a single doubt, that people were looking for her. Even if nobody else, her father would tear apart the world to find her. That was the single most comforting thought she'd ever had in her life. 

Finally, seven or nine or more days into her captivity, two guards appeared. They brought her to another bleak, gray room, and strapped her into the chair and left. Her captors had obviously decided she'd been softened up enough. She got her first introduction to Humorless von Interrogator a few minutes later, and he asked her a long series of seemingly innocuous questions to calibrate his machine. Darcy gave nonsensical answers interspersed with outright lies and little truths, hoping to confuse his readings. If her ploy worked, he gave no indication.

And so the next four days passed. Humorless would ask her a million questions she honestly didn't have the answers to, a million more she did and lied her ass off about, and then she'd go back to her blindingly bright and ear-splittingly loud cell. 

While he was learning about her, however, she was doing her best to learn what she could, as well. Hydra knew her position at SHIELD — which was expected, them being inside the organization the whole time and everything — but overall their information on her was curiously limited. Or else they'd dismissed it. She'd been trained by the Black Widow, after all, and if it was her she wouldn't dismiss anybody who'd had _any_ training from Natasha Romanoff. But, let them think they'd nabbed a hapless, mouthy idiot who'd gotten sucked into SHIELD after graduation. 

The important thing during captivity, Natasha told her during one of those spy lesson sessions Darcy always hoped would never come in handy — but look at her now — was to keep her mind occupied and to look for and not hesitate to take any advantage. Which was how Darcy ended up with a ball point pen, a paper clip, a 9 volt battery, and the initial plans for a rocking moon base. As for the noisy not-schedule, well, that was an accurate description of every school holiday she'd spent with Tony as a kid. If she lost herself in her head, the noise dimmed to a distant hum. It wouldn't work forever, though. 

When it looked like Humorless von Interrogator wasn't returning anytime soon, Darcy took a deep breath and let her mind slip back into her moon base planning. She'd decided what the place really needed was the best mini-golf course in the solar system. 

Humorless returned just as she'd started on the third hole (par five — it was a bitch). 

"Let's begin again," he said, resetting his chair and sitting down primly. 

"Sure," Darcy said with an easy smile. "How do you feel about clowns?"

"I am the one asking questions," he barked. It seemed his little walk hadn't cooled him off enough. Darcy kept smiling.

"I was going more for your opinion," she said in a conversational tone, hoping her appearance of being unbothered would get further under his skin. "I know they're kind of a putt-putt cliche, but some things are classics for a reason, you know. It doesn't have to be some stupid cut-out clown head, either."

He narrowed his eyes at her and stared for a moment before tapping away at his computer. "Interesting."

"I'm thinking like some sort of space pirate clown. It'll knock your ball into a sandtrap thing and cackle evilly at you as it—"

"How well do you know Natasha Romanoff."

Jesus, it took them long enough to get around to asking about her. "How well does anybody?"

"Answer the question," he snapped. She might be on the edge, but so was he. Who's torturing who now, asshole?

"Not very well, I guess," she allowed after making a show of really thinking about it for a long moment. "I mean, I know how she takes her coffee and that she gets annoyed if you offer her borscht. It's just beets and sour cream. What's the big deal? There was probably borscht-related trauma at some point in her life." Darcy leaned forward as far as she could and looked over at his keyboard. "Are you writing that down? You should write that down."

He ground his teeth. "She trained you, you cannot tell me you know nothing else of her."

"I can tell you that you've never met her." _'Because you're still breathing,'_ Darcy added silently. "She's not a sharer. And again, I'm not a mind reader. I don't know what you actually want."

Humorless ignored her. "Clint Barton."

"He really loves arrows," she answered promptly. "Especially if they do trick shit."

"And you know how he takes his coffee?" He asked with snide curl of his lip. 

"He will drink anything coffee-like, but usually takes it black."

"Steve Rogers," he said in a tight hiss. 

"Cream, three sugars. Dude has a sweet tooth."

With a flare of his nostrils, Humorless typed something into his computer. 

"Dr. Banner steers clear of coffee," she offered. "He goes for the rooibos teas. No caffeine."

The man pushed up from his chair once more, every line in his body rigid and irritated. "We'll try this again when you're feeling more cooperative. You will get only one more opportunity before our measures become more extreme," his voice dripped with dark venom and he left again without once looking her way. 

The guards returned a moment later, unstrapped her from the chair, and hustled her out of the room. They took petty amusement in shoving her around, yelling and hitting her when she stumbled. As much as she wanted the opportunity for escape, she also really, really wanted the opportunity to kick them in the junk. But, she used her stumbling and ducking to peer down side corridors, count doors, spot cameras; as she'd done on every walk to and from the interrogation room. When they bounced her between them, laughing lewdly, she snaked whatever she could from their pockets — she'd inventory away from prying eyes. 

Once back in her cell, the door slamming behind her with heavy finality, she dropped down onto the thin mattress on the floor and pulled her sweater onto her lap. For the two weeks or more it had served as her pillow, and she made a point of rolling it again for the camera, sliding her contraband into the folds under the cover of the fabric. 

Looking down as she fussed with the sweater, muttering imprecations against Hydra for the benefit of her watchers, she sorted through her small haul from the guards, and managed not to throw her hands up, triumphant. She had one small pocket knife, a tube of lip balm — gross, a crumpled ball of paper and foil — the wrapper of a chocolate bar, and a cheap money clip with a handful of rinminbi — so she was in China. That … was not awesome. But with these additional pieces to her stash, she could MacGyver the hell out of something. She just needed the opportunity. 

Tucking it all carefully away, she placed the sweater back onto the mattress and laid back, staring up at the flat, gray ceiling, pondering her situation and how to extricate herself now that she had a handful of tools. She may have been trained by Natasha, but Darcy knew she was no Black Widow — her strengths did not run to acrobatically strangling people with her thighs. Her strengths were obfuscation, talking her way out of things, and being unnoticed, or at least easily dismissed. So far those had bought her some time. 

She was deep in mapping out what she'd seen of their building, when the lights went out and the noise was cranked up to a deafening shriek. Maybe now was the time to make it look like they were getting to her. She stood up from the mattress and took the two steps to the door. Banging on it, she shouted, "Really guys? Really?"

Giving the door a couple of good, hard kicks, she ran a hand along the wall, and being careful not to trip on the mattress or fall over the toilet, she began pacing. Four steps, turn, four steps, turn. Her dad was looking for her. Thor, too, she hoped; Jane would see to it, not that she thought the big guy wouldn't come looking without encouragement. Maybe Bruce. Clint had been out of radio contact in South America, and Natasha was still off the grid. Steve was hunting answers about Bucky, but he was also reporting in to Coulson. Coulson would look for her, unless they were buried under some other shit, but he'd tell Steve for sure. 

Bucky …? Who knew. He might not even know she was gone. Since he didn't and wouldn't talk to anybody else, there was nobody to tell him. Maybe if he tried to contact her for some reason and couldn't reach her he'd start looking. Maybe. Their asset/handler relationship seemed to be doing okay; he'd even started checking in once or twice every couple weeks. But, she didn't always answer her phone, and he never called back until the next check in. So, it might be a month or more before he realized she was missing. 

It was tempting to hunker down, hold out, buy time until her dad and the others could get to her. But it had been maybe two weeks already, and Natasha and Clint told her over and over that escape had to be her priority. Nobody could hold out forever, and Humorless von Interrogator wasn't joking about more extreme methods. Darcy wasn't eager to see what those were. 

She thought about her dad in the cave for three months. Three impossibly long months, and she'd only been here for days. But he'd planned and plotted, and the second he could, he escaped. Darcy wouldn't be making an Iron Man suit with her scraps, but if she could get to anything electrical or any sort of keypad, she had enough to force an override, and if she was lucky, short the hell out of their systems. 

Take any advantage, Natasha said. Make your own opportunities, her dad told her. Don't play by somebody else's rules. That would be the plan. There would be no fighting her way out, but confusion and chaos she could do. 

There wasn't much else she could do in the cell but plot, anyway; she'd have to wait until the next time they came for her. But, when they did, she had to move. Only one more chance, Humorless had warned. 

They left her alone for a few more days, turning the lights off and on at random times, and they left the sound on, turning the volume up to a level she almost couldn't ignore. 

Darcy slept when she could, ate everything they gave to her, moved her contraband to various places on her person, and practiced taking it out. From her tiny hoard she'd carefully trimmed a long strip from the foil sheet, it might serve as a crude, short-term wire, and then cut the remaining foil into two pieces, smoothing out the worst of the wrinkles, then carefully folded the pieces together. With the battery, and maybe one or two small items, she might be able to cobble together a small transmitter, maybe get a signal out. Maybe she wouldn't need it, maybe she wouldn't have time, but it gave her one more thing to occupy herself with. 

When she'd done all she could with her stash, she paced, trying to appear agitated, but in her pacing she mentally walked herself down every corridor she'd seen, and tapped the wall, counting out every turn and door. There were gaps in her mental layout, but she could only work with what she had. So, resolved, and maybe a little resigned, she kept at it, running over the place almost obsessively, until she was confident she could walk it with her eyes closed. 

When they finally came for her again, it wasn't hard to appear anxious — she was as ready as she could make herself, but she was still freaked out. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her mouth went dry, and she couldn't quite seem to steady her breathing. 

It was go time.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the extended cliffhanger. Last week was weird and then the weekend got away from me.

Darcy's pair of guards, tall goons with all the charms of sociopathic toddlers, started their torment the moment they yanked her from the room. A groping hand, a burst of laughter and sour breath in her face. Darcy held herself as steady as she could, making only a token effort to fight back. They expected some resistance, and seemed to find it entertaining, but they never bothered to bind her hands. Overconfident that their little prisoner was too small, too scared, too weak to get away. 

Even as she looked for her opportunity, when it finally happened, it came so suddenly, Darcy almost missed it. One goon nudged the back of her knee, making her stumble. And then he and his companion took their eyes off of her to have a laugh together. 

_'You are not a big woman, Dashyenka',_ Natasha'd told her. _'Don't use your fists when a wrench will do._ ' 

Darcy let herself fall to her knees and kicked out with her foot, connecting with one of guard's kneecaps. The man howled in pain and crumpled to the ground. Darcy threw herself backwards to grab the truncheon out of his pain-slack grip, then swung her arm around to clock him in the temple. In the same movement, she used the momentum of her swing to get back to her feet and followed up with a strike across the other guard's face, his nose fell apart in a spray of bright blood, and he dropped, his head making a sickly, dull crack as it hit the concrete floor. 

Stunned at the speed and violence of the moment, Darcy stared numbly at the men for a second, before instinct told her to move already. She made only a cursory search through their pockets for anything more that might be useful — their keycards, side arms, a lighter, a pair of sunglasses, and — holy crap, was that a garrote? What kind of sick asshole carried around a garrote on guard duty? Darcy took it anyway, pocketed everything else, then scrambled over their bodies and darted down the corridor. 

Calling up her frighteningly incomplete mental map, she took the first right but avoided the first door and kept going. She'd seen people coming in and out of it in one of her trips back and forth from the interrogation room. Ducking her head carefully around the next corner, she waited until the Hydra goon at the other end of the hall entered another room before she hauled ass, praying she was heading closer to the exit and not deeper into the facility. She was going to run out of familiar corridor very quickly. 

The alarm sounded before she got halfway. The door opened and the goon stepped out, just beginning to pull his weapon. Darcy hit him as hard as she could with the truncheon, adrenaline putting a little extra oomph to her swing. He felt back into the room, dead weight sprawling awkwardly on the floor. 

"Hey." Another man in the room shoved himself up out of a chair, looking utterly baffled. Moving beyond thought into pure instinct, Darcy dove into the room and knocked him out before he could get fully to his feet. And then she was alone, the only one conscious in a room full of computers. 

"Holy crap, it's like Christmas," she muttered to herself. The room seemed to be a security control node for the prison portion of the base. Which meant, hopefully, that system was connected to the overall network, even if she had to force her way in to other areas. Pulling thug one all the way into the room and shutting the door, she turned to the computer console and contemplated just how much damage she could do before she had to move again. This wasn't like breaking into Phil's base, where she took a more delicate approach. This was destroy, destroy, destroy, and maybe sprinkle some chaos. 

It turned out there was quite a lot she could do. She shut down the cameras first — there weren't all that many, but the cells, main corridors, and base perimeter were covered. She did take a quick scan of the cells, but they turned out to be empty. So, no help there. Then she found a grid layout of the base, and locked down every section. Her plan wasn't to lock herself in, her plan was to take the whole damned thing offline, but she needed more time. Once things went down, some Hydra tech would surely be somewhere else working to get everything back online. When that happened, she planned to be past the lockdowns, and when power came back up, so would the locks. Well, she hoped they would be. Anything to buy herself two minutes of confusion here and there. A person could do a lot with two minutes of confusion. 

Next on her list was any sort of link to the power grid — she found it after a frantic minute, but she also got a good, solid reminder of how whack Hydra was. The power systems were hooked into a base self-destruct system. Probably to scuttle the base if anybody else took it and tried to bring systems back without knowing the protocols. Sick bastards. 

Licking her lips, she glanced over her shoulder, listening for the sound of boots, trying to decide if she had the time to do what she was hoping would turn out to be a good idea, but was probably going to go very horribly wrong. But, that was kind of the Stark way, wasn't it? 

Turning back to the computers, she got into the comms and sent a short burst transmission, a simple signal her dad would recognize. He and Jarvis would be able to trace, so whatever happened next Tony would be on his way. Then she took a deep breath, decided it might turn wrong, but she had to try, and wrote a quick, dirty, ugly, and maybe not entirely functional script that would trigger the self-destruct when the power systems went through the restart, protocols or not. Then she killed the power. 

Flicking the lighter, she made a quick search of the equipment locker at the back of the room, and found, among other sundries, a flashlight and a fifth of gin. Tempting — but she left the liquor in favor of the light. 

Thug two started to groan as he came to, and Darcy jumped, her heart racing, and she fumbled with the flashlight and truncheon, not quite able to get a grip on either. While she fumbled, he got to his knees and started to lunge for her, she stepped back and got control of the truncheon, swinging it at his head again. He fell like a rock. 

"I'm really not usually this violent," she told his unconscious body. "But, man, kidnap a girl for a couple of weeks and that's what you get. You're lucky as hell my dad isn't here yet."

Creeping over to the door, nearly tripping on the first thug, she opened the door a crack and peered into the black hallway. There were no other lights or nearby sounds. With one last hard, sharp breath, she ran like hell. 

The mad dash felt like a marathon, a never-ending marathon in a pitch black night, as she moved from one corridor to another, from one room to another, retracing her steps when she found herself facing the alerted Hydra forces, and pausing when she had the opportunity to create more chaos. A broken card reader here, a messed up door control there, her truncheon took out more than one camera. 

She eventually lost the truncheon, throwing it at a dude's face; she missed, but it slowed him down, allowing her to scramble around a corner. The magazine of one purloined pistol was emptied down another hall; she was pretty sure she missed there, too, but the bright muzzle flash from the guys trying to shoot her stopped long enough for her to dart forward, release a heavy rolling door, and dive under it before it hit the floor with a muscular and resolute clang. 

And then she was in the motor pool. A vast warehouse space cluttered with pallets of equipment and a handful of vehicles. She tied the garrote off between two pallets to trip up anybody who came behind her, and made her way towards the first vehicle she thought she could hotwire. 

The backup generators came up halfway to her goal, a low amber light that tossed jumping shadows all around and disoriented her for a moment. Three Hydra soldiers entered the far side of the room, spotted her, shouted orders to stop, and then opened fire. 'Stop so we can shoot you' seemed to accurately sum up any plan Hydra'd ever had, as far as Darcy could tell. 

Retreating behind a pallet, she returned fire with her remaining pistol, counting off the rounds in her head. She would run out long before they did. There was a humvee between her and the goons. If she made a run for it, she'd be exposed for a handful of paces before she could shelter behind the vehicle. There was an exterior door just to the left of the humvee, and she could get there behind cover, but even from where she was, she could see the red light that said the locks had re-engaged with the backup power. There was no way she'd have time to override, and even if she did, she'd be out in the yard and exposed to whoever was out there. 

The humvee was her best chance, and taking a moment to steady herself, she popped up, fired three quick rounds at the advancing Hydra soldiers, driving them back, and giving her a small window. She took it and ran, ducking when they started firing again and diving to an awkward, stumbling, sliding halt behind the rear wheel. She allowed herself a single heartbeat to get a breath, then pushed up to move towards the front, yanking open the driver's door and hoisting herself in. There were more shouts echoing through the room, and she chanced enough of a look to spot another trio of Hydra thugs enter from another door. They had a better angle on her, and if she didn't get the vehicle moving, she was dead. 

Dropping down into the wheelwell, she pounded at the steering column with the butt of her gun, breaking it free to expose the ignition wiring. The Hydra soldiers were pressing closer, trying to surround her, and peppering the vehicle with fire. She twitched at every ping and thud of rounds hitting the armored skin. Then the fire stopped, there was some confused shouting, and a burst of fire that didn't seem aimed at her. She glanced up, listening, and that was when she saw the silver ring hanging down from the sun visor. God bless motor pools, they always left the keys. 

Lifting herself just enough to reach, she grabbed the keyring and shoved the key in the ignition. Three loud pops sounded out from nearby, and her hand jerked and slipped as she tried to turn the ignition. The yelling became more frantic, and fresh bursts of gunfire made a terrible din, and then three more pops followed, before, finally, a profound, creepy silence. Curiosity needled at her, but terror was winning, and she wiped her sweaty palm on her pants and tried the key again. The engine roared to life, and she sat up enough to peek out the windshield. There was a garage door between her and freedom, but garage doors, if they were reinforced at all, were reinforced for attack from the outside, not inside, and she had a heavy ass humvee. 

The passenger door flew open before she could put the vehicle into gear, and she threw herself sideways into the door, her shaking hands searching out the pistol she'd shoved under her leg. She had two rounds left. 

A large, dark figure climbed in and she froze.

"Go," Bucky ordered. 

"Oh my God." Darcy shoved the pistol away; it fell between the seat and the bulky center console, but she didn't care. She pulled up her legs and lunged across the cabin, metal digging into her side and knees, to throw an arm around him. "Bucky."

He let her have a moment, then pulled her arm away and looked over his shoulder, out the back. "Later, doll. There's more coming. Go."

Letting go of him, she slid back into the driver's seat and gave a jerky nod. "Right. Going. Uh, you might want to belt in." 

Taking her own advice, she quickly secured her seatbelt, then threw the vehicle into drive, only grinding the gears a little in her panic. One last deep breath, a nervous lick of her lips, she stared down the door and floored it. 

The metal of the door made a horrible, deafening shriek as it sheared and tore, and the humvee slipped and bounced, lurching heavily, trying to gain purchase over the twisted ribbons of sheet metal. Darcy had a brief, pitched battle with the steering wheel, but quickly got the heavy beast under control, and tossed a heartfelt and sincere mental thank you at her father for teaching her how to drive anything Stark Industries made or modified. 

And then they were free and out into a poorly lit industrial yard. The blackness of full night threw Darcy for a loop. She'd been convinced it was midday at the latest, and had accounted for the darkness inside the base by assuming it was the result of a Hydra architect's horror of windows. Boy, they really did a number on her internal clock. 

"There." Bucky pointed out the windshield and Darcy followed his direction and aimed for the nearest gate. 

A line of retractable, reinforced concrete pillars blocked the road, and in front of that they'd parked a pair of armored jeeps. A line of Hydra troopers stood waiting.

"I've got a humvee, you dumb shits," Darcy muttered with a vicious grin, then gave the wheel a good, hard yank, pulling the humvee off the road, bypassing the gate to crash through the heavy chain-link fence. Bucky swore in Russian and made an impressive hand-shaped dent in the center console. 

"Sorry," Darcy called over the ruckus of the humvee rattling and shaking on the rough terrain. "Hydra got carried away when they armored this thing. I mean, not that I'm complaining, because if they hadn't I'm pretty sure I'd be dead, or at least really shot a lot. Still, it's fucking heavy. It's like trying to steer a whale."

"When we're far enough out," he responded just as loudly, "I can drive."

"I got it." They hit a rut of some sort and the humvee bounced violently, jostling them both, and Darcy hissed when the wheel jerked in her hands, pinching the skin on her palms. "Son of a bitch." She fought with the vehicle for another heartbeat before she regained control, and pointed it back towards the road. Busting an axel now would really suck. 

"Sturdy, huh?" She yelled with a grimace she hoped looked more like a grin. Her head was going to be rattling for days after this. "Not made for comfort, though. I'll find the road. It'll take a minute or two for them to clear the gate, I hope."

"Take us a few miles out," he shouted back. "Then find a clear spot to pull over. Maybe something around a curve in the road."

"If they follow —"

"They will. I want to be the one who decides _when_ they catch up. They won't expect us to be waiting for them."

"Creepy, dude."

"Drive," Bucky ordered, pointing ahead. 

Darcy drove. 

She glanced at the mirrors every few seconds, like a nervous tick, looking for pursuit, but it was dark, only the faint few lights from the gate. There were no other lights around them, no sign of homes, or towns, or villages even. And no moon to give any hint of the landscape. Their whole world at the moment was the Hydra base behind them and the one-lane strip of old, gray asphalt they raced along as fast as she dared go. 

A few miles out, a brilliant orange glow lit up the sky behind them. Darcy was so startled, she hit the breaks, and jumped out watch. The glow burned bright, flaring to yellow, and then dying down to an angry red across the horizon. 

"Darcy?"

She jumped. Somehow she'd forgotten Bucky. "It worked," she told him. "Holy shit, it worked."

He came around the vehicle to stand next to her, little more than a solid shadow in the thin ambient light from the humvee. "What did you do?"

"Hydra's failstupid," she said. "They tied a self-destruct to the power systems. I tried to rig it so it would go once they got the lights back on. Guess they did."

"Nice," he said, an admiring tone in his voice.

"I gave it like a five percent chance of working," she admitted. "Holy shit."

"You don't give yourself enough credit," he told her.

"Why does everybody keep saying that?"

"Because you don't give yourself enough credit." He dropped a hand to her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "Come on, doll, let's get out of here."

"Yeah, yeah, I …" she trailed off, staring at the fiery sky behind them. Escape. She'd escaped. "I just …" Tears prickled at her eyes and she tried to swipe them away, embarrassed by the sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion. "How long?"

"Fourteen days. Two weeks exactly."

She laughed, a wet, choking sort of sound. "Gee, I was pretty close. I was guessing about sixteen or seventeen days by now."

Bucky was silent, but his hand never left her shoulder. He was a steady weight at her side and once her teeth started to chatter, and her chin started to quiver, she turned towards him, seeking the comfort of that steadiness. He responded by sliding his arm around her back and pulling her into him. 

"You did good, doll," he murmured after giving her a couple of minutes to let go of some of the overflowing emotions. "You ruined my big rescue, though."

She snuffled a little laugh and pressed her forehead into his chest. "Sorry."

"Nah, it's okay. But, it means I still owe you one for Estonia."

Darcy took a couple of deep breaths, and then pulled back away from him. She could, and would, have a meltdown later, but she really, really needed to get home. "So … China?"

"Qinghai. Hell and gone from anywhere."

"How'd you find me?"

"I remembered this place." He sighed and leaned back against the humvee. "Sort of remembered. More like I just knew it was here. Dunno. Anyway, your pops and his pals are tearing up the rest of the world, but this place, a couple others, I sort of remembered. I thought I'd take a look when nobody was having any luck anywhere else. Hit one in Siberia, then another northwest of here in Kazakhstan. There were a couple others next, if you weren't here." He looked up at her and stared for a minute. "Sorry it took me so long."

"You didn't know," she sighed and stepped over to lean next to him. "You mentioned my dad. How is … I mean, is he okay? Did you see him?"

"No. I take it he's not real happy with me right now."

"What? Why?"

"Don't worry about it." He shrugged off her question and kicked the toe of his boot against a crack in the pavement. "I called you, just checking in. But, your boss, Jane? She answered. She told me you were missing and then she yelled at me a little and told me to call Steve."

Darcy grimaced, Jane could be cutting in her irritation or worry. "What did she yell at you about?"

"Mostly how I never call Steve, honest. You'd been missing for a couple days already, and I guess she thought if Steve had a way to reach me, then, well, there'd be another person looking for you. She was just worried and scared."

Darcy groaned and dropped her head back to the cool metal of the humvee. "I hate making people worry." 

"Yeah, but just means you've got people who care."

"I know," she said again, then slid her eyes over to him and said, "I also have a lot of people who are really destructive in their worry."

"Yeah, well," he paused and cleared his throat. "Stark got himself a little bit arrested."

Darcy pressed a hand to her forehead. "He did … arrested?"

"Yeah. I don't know all the details, but I guess it involved an international incident and him punching out some diplomat. There was a suspected Hydra site, and they didn't want to let your pops into the country to search for it. Don't know where it was, though. I'm sure you'll get the story soon enough." 

"Oh, dad," she moaned.

"Be honest, doll, you'd do the same thing."

"I like to think I'm more subtle."

Bucky let out a dry chuckle and waved a hand to the still glowing sky behind them. "Real subtle."

"Well, okay, but … no, I got nothing." She shrugged and turned back to the humvee, opening the door. Bucky stopped it with one hand.

"Why don't you let me drive, huh?"

"I'm okay."

"It's fine if you're not," he told her. "I got some experience being held by Hydra, you know."

"It's not really the same thing."

He shifted, putting himself between her and the door. "Bad enough. Did they do anything to you?"

"Just psychological stuff."

Bucky looked back towards the fiery remains of the Hydra base. "You sure?"

"Pretty sure. They drugged me when they took me." Which was an awful thought; what could they have done to her in the time she didn't remember? But, she didn't feel like anything physical had been done, beyond petty kicks and punches. And if it really had been fourteen days, she didn't think she had a blank spot much longer than the time it would have taken to get her to this base. 

"I woke up here," she continued. "Then it was sleep deprivation, screwing with the lights, really loud noises, crappy food and not much of it. The usual."

"Darce," he said in a low voice.

"What? I'm fine," she insisted, trying to push past him, but it was like trying to push past a mountain. "A few years ago I would have called that finals week."

"You don't have to put on a show for me," he insisted. 

"It's not a show," she argued back, her voice rising. Struggling for control against the impending meltdown, now that the adrenaline of the escape was fading, Darcy gritted her teeth.

"Can you even see? Where the hell are your glasses?" Bucky shot back, his own voice rising. "This is nothing to be this damned stubborn about."

"My glasses?" She put a hand over her eyes and shuddered. "I don't — no, I don't know." It was an odd shock to her already frayed system to realize he was right about her glasses. Her eyesight wasn't magically better or anything, she just, quite frankly, hadn't noticed. Panic, adrenaline, chaos. She saw clear enough to get by. 

Darcy shoved her shaking hands into her pockets, as they stared each other down in the gloom. She wasn't quite ready to back off yet, clinging on to some tiny bit of pride, even as she could feel her exhaustion and the delayed terror creeping up on her. 

"I can see fine," she murmured, feeling childish and petulant but not quite able to stop herself. 

The wind gusted, tossing her hair across her face; it was getting colder, and lightning sparked across the sky, a brief flash that illuminated the vast, barren landscape around them. 

"Come on, doll," Bucky tried again, lowering his voice and putting a hand back on her shoulder. "Feels like a storm. Let's just get out of here and you can be stubborn about anything else you want on the way home, alright?"

"Yeah," she said, her voice small and worn. "Look, Bucky, I'm sorry. I'm just —" Something caught her eye. Another streak of lightning and a swirl of color in the clouds.

"What?" Bucky followed her gaze, and turned his head up to the sky. They watched a wild stream of colors churn and the lightning flash in a chaotic dance. "What is that?"

Darcy laughed and threw her arms wide. "Heimdall! You're my favorite!" 

She'd called for guardian of the Rainbow Bridge a couple of times during her captivity, but maybe he simply hadn't heard her. And she had no clue how his 'seeing' ability worked, so while she doubted Hydra'd Heimdall-proofed their base, maybe there was something else about it that blocked his sight. 

Whatever. It didn't matter. He saw her now.

The swirling, crackling light dropped out of the sky, wind whipped up dust and debris, and Darcy threw an arm up to shield her face. She missed Bucky moving towards her until he'd grabbed her up and pressed her between himself and the humvee, sheltering her with his body. 

"What the hell is this?" He demanded again. 

"It's the Bifrost. It's okay." She shoved at his shoulders, but, as before, he was unmovable.

"What is a bifrost?" He asked through a clenched jaw. 

The spiraling clouds gathered tighter and tighter, then dropped towards them, the space tornado hitting the ground maybe thirty feet in front of the humvee. Bucky pressed her more firmly against the vehicle. 

"It's from Asgard," she tried to explain. "Thor. Come on, let me go."

"No way in hell," he growled. 

The Bifrost vanished as quickly as it had come, and the night fell heavily on them again. 

"Lady Darcy?" A voice called out.

"Lady Sif," Darcy called back. "Don't make me kick you in the junk," she hissed at Bucky and gave him another useless shove. 

"Unhand her," Lady Sif's voice boomed across the road, and Darcy heard the sound of boots pounding on the dusty asphalt. 

Bucky was jerked backwards, thrown across the road, but he spun and landed forward on his feet, one hand on the ground in a coiled crouch, ready to lunge.

"Stop," Darcy shouted. "Everybody stop."

Sif eyed Bucky and took a step towards Darcy, while Bucky stood slowly from his crouch, shoulders lowered, still battle ready. 

"Are you unharmed?" Sif asked hefting her shield and sword, chancing a glance away from Bucky to look Darcy over.

"I'm okay, thank you. I'm really glad to see you." Darcy pushed away from the humvee and waved a hand at Bucky. "Bucky Barnes, Lady Sif. Lady Sif, Bucky Barnes. We're all friends here. Nobody hit anybody else."

Sif nodded and lowered her weapons. "You are very agile, Bucky Barnes," she told him, her voice laced with respect and approval. 

Bucky didn't move or speak, simply watched. 

"Is he mute?" Sif asked, dropping her voice in what she probably thought was a tactful whisper. It wasn't. 

"No. Just not very talkative."

"Ah, Hogun is much the same." Sif accepted that and moved to sheath her sword and sling her shield across her back. "It will be known, Bucky Barnes, that you have rescued a friend of Asgard. You have our gratitude."

Bucky stared at her and then glanced over at Darcy. Whatever he saw in her face, must have been reassuring enough, he stood up straighter and nodded back at Sif. "She rescued herself."

Sif grinned down at Darcy and clapped her on the back. Darcy staggered a little and tossed Sif a rueful grin. "It is no less than I would expect. She has a warrior's spirit," the woman told Bucky.

"No kidding," he muttered back. 

Sif paced across the road and back again, evaluating the surrounding area, looking for threats. "Thor searches Midgard for you, and Heimdall has searched all the realms. You fell from his sight. It is puzzling."

"No clue," Darcy told her.

"Come, let us return you home." Sif waved a hand behind her at the Bifrost site. 

Darcy's eyes widened, her exhaustion giving way to exhilaration. "Oh, man, do I seriously get to travel the Bifrost?"

Sif laughed. "Indeed. It would be best to get you home quickly. Though, I know little of your politics, your disappearance has caused much consternation across the many lands of this realm." She gave Bucky a wary look then dropped her voice again. "Does he know of your father?"

"He does," Darcy assured her. "I take it Thor told you?"

"Once he called upon us. I hope you do not take it amiss," Sif said, looking apologetic. 

"No, no," Darcy waved a hand at the Asgardian. "It's fine. I trust you."

"Thank you." Sif brought a fist to her chest and bowed. "Your father has been beside himself in his anguish." She frowned thoughtfully for a moment, seeming to further consider Tony and his anguish. "We should go."

Darcy nodded and started to follow Lady Sif, but paused when she noticed Bucky hadn't moved. "Bucky? Come on."

"I'll make my own way," he said with an uneasy roll of his shoulders.

"Come, Bucky Barnes," Lady Sif called back to him. "You are most welcome to travel with us."

He didn't respond and didn't move. Darcy sighed.

"Give me a minute to talk to him?" She asked Sif.

"Of course."

The Asgardian warrior stepped back to the Bifrost site and waited patiently, while Darcy crossed over to Bucky.

"Really no?"

"It's fine, doll. I'll take the humvee. I know where I am." He gave her a half smile. "I think I'll go see what's left of that Hydra base."

"Cinders."

"Yeah, well, I'll go have a look anyway."

Darcy watched him for a moment, watched his eyes dart around, watched them stick on Sif for a heartbeat before moving on. 

"Dad can suck it up and deal, you know?" She said finally. "Whatever's sticking at him about you."

His gaze dropped back to her and he frowned. "Just leave it, okay?"

Shaking her head, she crossed her arms. "Not if it means you're not coming home with us."

"I came here to get you." He looked over at Sif again. "You okay going with her?"

"Yeah, she's good. She's Thor's buddy and Coulson's, too, actually."

"Huh." He shrugged and glanced back down at her. "I'll see you in a few days. How about that?"

"Okay." Darcy let out a long breath. She wanted him to come with them, but had a feeling this was one of those times when pushing wasn't going to help. "Thank you. Thank you for coming to find me."

"No problem, doll." His lips twitched a little and he squinted. "I did wonder what took you so long. Figured you'd have brought Hydra to their knees after a few days. Just a few thugs, right?"

Darcy rolled her eyes and thumped him lightly on one arm. "You're a funny guy, Barnes."

"Yeah. Well, you'll tell me all about it when I see you next. Right?"

It was Darcy's turn to shrug uncomfortably and glance away. "Yeah, I guess."

"You did good, doll," he told her again in a quiet but firm voice. "You did really good."

Darcy nodded and bit her bottom lip. Then, not caring if he was in a hugging place or not, threw her arms around him. He was stiff for a second, but relaxed and hugged her back. 

"Better get going," he said eventually. "I'll see you soon."

"You'd better," she told him. Then she turned and walked back to Sif while Bucky stood by the humvee and watched. 

"He seems an able warrior," Sif commented as Darcy approached.

"Pretty good," Darcy said mildly. 

"Fast, agile, strong."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Super soldier process. Kinda like Steve."

Sif's eyebrow shot up and she leaned sideways to look over at Bucky. "Indeed. The Captain is impressive."

Darcy huffed a little laugh. "He is."

"We shall have to spar some day. I would like that very much."

Wincing, Darcy glanced back over her shoulder at Bucky. "Let's work our way up to him actually talking to other people first."

Sif nodded and took Darcy's arm, pulling her to stand at her shoulder. "He has suffered much?"

"Very much."

"I am grieved to hear that," Sif said, earnest sincerity heavy in her tone. "But, it is well he has found a friend in you."

"I hope so."

"It is so," Sif said firmly, then looked up to the sky. "Are you ready?"

Darcy rubbed her hands together and looked up along with Sif. "Oh yeah."

The other woman grinned and laughed. "Heimdall! Open the Bifrost!"


	10. Chapter 10

The Bifrost deposited Darcy and Lady Sif on the Tower's quinjet platform. Travel by Bifrost was, without a doubt, the most trippy-ass thing Darcy had ever done. Also, possibly, the most insanely awesome, even if she did feel completely dazed. E-Ticket, all the way. Sif's hand darted out as their feet hit the ground, catching Darcy by the elbow when she staggered.

"I have heard that traveling the Bifrost can be difficult at first for those unused to it," Sif assured her, voice patient and free from judgement.

"Whooo!" Darcy, cheeks flushed with joy at the experience, brushed her hair back off her face and grinned up at Sif. "Jane was right. That's a hell of a ride." She tilted her head up to the sky. "You're awesome, Heimdall!"

Sif laughed and nudged her towards the door to the platform. "Ever resilient, Lady Darcy."

"Best ride ever," Darcy chuckled and tried to shake off the intense and wild haze of the Bifrost's magic (or technology — whatever).

They hadn't got halfway to the door when it slid open and a tall, blond hurricane blew through, picking Darcy up like a toy.

"Starksdottir. Darcy, my friend. Are you well?"

Feet dangling a foot and a half off the ground, Darcy threw her arms around Thor's broad shoulders. "I am so happy to see you. I'm okay."

He gave her a gentle squeeze then set her on her feet again and looked her over. "You are well?" He asked again.

"I'm okay, really." 

He nodded slowly and glanced over at Sif. "Well met, Sif. How did you come to find her?"

"She appeared again to Heimdall's sight in a place called China." Sif looked down at Darcy with a proud smile. "She had already seen to her own escape and dealt her captors a wicked blow."

Thor laughed, the booming sound of approaching thunder; bracing, yet somehow soothing. "As I would expect." He patted Darcy's back and was about to say something else when Jane dashed through the door, skidded to a halt in front of Darcy, and grabbed her up in a bone-bruising hug. 

"Oh my God. Oh my God," Jane breathed out in a strangled sob. "We were so worried. Oh my God."

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Darcy whispered, hugging her back, a burning sting starting behind her eyes. 

Thor stood over the pair of them, like a giant, protective Norse golden retriever, and spoke again to Sif. "Will you stay, my friend?"

"No." She shook her head. "I will return to Asgard and inform the others of the Lady Darcy's safe return." She nodded over at Darcy. "You will have to tell us, some day, of your escape. You know how Volstagg does love a thrilling tale."

Darcy gave her a worn smile and nodded back. "I will. Thank you for coming for me."

"Of course. Tell Bucky Barnes I should be honored to spar with him when he is ready."

"Sure."

"Farewell, Darcy Starksdottir." She brought her fist to her chest, bowed her head to the trio, then looked up at the sky. "Heimdall. Open the Bifrost."

They watched the bright, powerful swirl of the Bifrost until Sif disappeared in its light. 

Jane gave her a little shake and began to steer Darcy to the door. "Come on," she said. "Let's let Bruce have a look at you."

"I really am okay," Darcy protested wearily. 

"You know he's going to want to," Jane said firmly and Thor nodded along with her. 

What Bruce might want, paled in comparison to what Darcy needed to know. "Where's my dad?"

"Jarvis has told him of your safe arrival," Thor told her. "He and the others were out searching for you. They will make a hasty return, I am certain, and will be much relieved to see you."

Thor led them to the elevator and waved them in ahead of himself. 

"I heard he got himself arrested," Darcy said, raising an eyebrow at Thor. 

"Pepper cleared it up." Jane dismissed the situation with a wave of her hand. "It was only for an hour, tops."

"Uh huh. Arrested, though?" Despite his reputation and previous tendency towards questionable, if not downright self-destructive behavior, Tony was actually pretty good at not getting arrested. Mostly. She was going to need more details before she was okay with this slightly concerning turn of events. 

"The military of a small country were reluctant to let the Avengers into their lands," Thor explained. "They were afraid we might cause extensive damage to the region."

"Gee, I wonder why?" Darcy muttered.

He gave her a wounded look. "We wanted only to search a small island location. Your father's desperation was greater than his reason and he struck the man with whom we were negotiating." Thor shrugged, seeming unbothered by that part of the story. "I must admit, if he had not, I was near enough myself."

"He was trying to extort a bribe," Jane offered with a disgusted frown. "That's part of how Pepper smoothed it over."

"Stark would have paid any price, but the man was odious." Thor's face darkened a moment before he shook it off. "Needless to say, our search was fruitless. The site had been abandoned some time ago."

Thor, taking the lead again, stepped out of the elevator and shepherded Jane and Darcy into the medical suite, where Bruce was waiting, fiddling with his glasses. 

"Darcy," Bruce greeted softly with a small smile. "How are you?"

"Okay," she said, yet again. This was sure to be a conversation she had repeatedly for the next … who knew how long. 

Bruce eyed her, unconvinced, and waved to an exam bed. Sighing loudly, she dragged herself over and hopped up on the bed. 

"Tony's about an hour out," he told her. "Let's just get this out of the way so neither of us have to fight with him about it. Right?"

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled and leaned back.

"And," Bruce continued with a wry twist to his lips, "he wants me to tell you that you're grounded."

Darcy groaned and gave him a pitiful look. "Super awesome."

Jane patted her knee. "Do you want us to stay?"

"No, it's fine." This would be unpleasant enough without Jane standing there giving her sad-face. 

Thor put an arm around Jane and pulled her back. "We shall be right outside should you have need of us."

Bruce waited until Jane and Thor left before putting on his glasses and pulling out a blood pressure cuff. "I'm going to have to ask you what they did to you," he told her apologetically. 

Darcy let out another sigh and told him everything she could remember from the moment she was taken to the moment she escaped. 

Bruce nodded along with her tale, asked a few pointed questions about her treatment and the degree of both sensory deprivation and sensory overstimulation, poked here, prodded there, took her blood pressure, her temperature, checked her eyes, her heart, scanned her with every device he had, and drew four vials of blood. 

"Well, at first glance, I'd say you're slightly malnourished, with some mild dehydration, exhaustion, and stress." He gave her a half smile. "Not fun, but expected. I'd like to give you an IV for fluids while I run your blood work."

"Okay," she agreed, feeling every bit of exhaustion finally catch up with her. She couldn't actually remember the last time she slept. Her days were still a confused jumble. 

"Feel free to close your eyes, take a nap maybe," Bruce told her as he swabbed her arm with an alcohol wipe. "Little pinch," he warned as he placed the needle and set the IV. "All done. Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm fine," she said, then rolled her eyes at herself. "I mean, fine as in I don't need anything."

He gave her another crooked smile and shifted his feet uncertainly. "We were worried. I'm glad you're back."

"Thanks, Bruce." She gave him a fond smile. "It's really good to see you."

"Sure. I'll be right over there if you need me." He pointed over his shoulder and then shuffled off to his lab table. 

"Welcome home, Darcy," Jarvis called out, his voice modulated to be low and soothing. He'd clearly waited for the others to finish with her before offering his own greeting. Such a good digital brother.

"Hey, Jarvis. How are you?"

"Relieved you are well."

Darcy smiled up at the ceiling. "I'm thinking hug."

"Noted, and as ever, appreciated. Ms. Potts is on her way up. Do you wish to see her?"

"Yeah, of course."

Pepper stepped into the room not even two minutes later, crossed over to her, and without a word held onto Darcy for a long, long time before she let go. 

"Oh honey," she breathed out and closed her eyes, dabbing delicately at them. 

Darcy's own eyes were wet and she grabbed Pepper's hand. "Love you, aunt Pep."

"I love you, too, sweetheart." Pepper forced a smile and propped her hip on the side of the bed. "You're okay?"

"Tired and dehydrated," she said, shaking the IV line gently. 

"Tell me you're not about to build a super suit," Pepper said with a raised eyebrow and a weary smile.

Darcy laughed and shook her head. "No, no. But, I'll probably have to change my name to Massive Explosions Junior."

"The only part of that that's a surprise is that it took this long." Pepper squeezed her hand. "I'm so glad you're home. Do you want me to call your mother? She was here for a few days with your brother and Rico. She'll want you to call her later, but I can see how tired you are."

"Yeah, actually, that would be great." And she was tired. So, so tired, and she still had whoever else was in the Tower to get through. She wanted to talk to her mom, of course, but maybe when she didn't feel like the insides of her eyelids had been sandblasted, and when her brain settled from the jumpy jitteriness of adrenaline crash and raw nerves. 

"Mr. Stark has arrived," Jarvis announced. 

Darcy closed her eyes and braced herself. "How bad was it?" She asked Pepper in a low voice.

"Not good," Pepper said with diplomatic and concerning evasiveness. "He was scared and worried. We all were."

Darcy opened her eyes and squinted at her. "He's never letting me out of his sight again, is he?"

Pepper breathed out a small laugh. "Probably not. He heard about Estonia." She raised an eyebrow at Darcy, who winced and looked away.

"Lord," she moaned.

"He wasn't happy," Pepper told her. 

"So that's why he's in a twist about Bucky?"

Pepper's eyebrow lowered and she considered Darcy for a moment. "Among other things. How did you know?"

"Bucky showed up when I was busting out. He helped me."

A strange procession of expressions crossed Pepper's face, but she settled on relieved with maybe a hint of steel. "Be sure and tell Tony that."

"I will."

The door to the medical suite slid open and Tony crashed through; he'd shed most of his Iron Man gear, but he was still shaking one gauntlet free when he entered. The gauntlet hit the ground with a careless clatter as he came to a stop at the foot of the bed and stared at her for a moment, his eyes scanning over her. "You're okay?"

"Yeah. I promise," Darcy told him, tears burning at her eyes.

All things considered, she'd done okay holding it together since she got back. The emotional residue of the whole insane situation threatened to overwhelm her a time or two, but, except for that first moment, the realization of her freedom, when she'd broken down in front of Bucky, she'd mostly held on. Until now. Seeing her father, feeling the weight of the past two weeks. It was too much. He looked like hell. His skin gray, his hair wild with more silver at the temples and in his beard than she remembered. 

He pulled his eyes away from her for a quick look over at Bruce for confirmation. "Banner?"

"Doing her blood work now," Bruce said without turning. "Exhaustion, mild dehydration and malnutrition."

"That's it?" Tony demanded, a sharp edge to his voice.

Bruce was unperturbed by the tone. "Unless her blood turns up something, then yes."

Tony's head jerked in something like a nod, and he swallowed a few times before coming around to her side. Pepper slid out of the way and, after putting a gentle hand on Tony's shoulder, left them alone. 

"You scared me," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Her voice broke and she closed her eyes as the tears finally slipped out. Tony pulled her into his arms, and rested his chin on the top of her head. He smelled like sweat and grease and that indefinable, comforting scent of dad. She felt safe for the first time in weeks. 

"You didn't do it," he said. "Hydra. We didn't know what happened. Police found your car on the road. Your purse, your phone, everything still there. Then Coulson called, said they had intel that it was Hydra. Fuckers. Those absolute—" He cut himself off with a hard breath through his nose. 

Hydra had murdered his parents, and for a couple of weeks he'd surely been tormented by the thought that they'd killed his daughter, too. Darcy threaded her arms around his waist and held on as tightly as she could. 

"I want to say a million things about how you're never leaving the Tower again," he said. "But, I've had everybody telling me you're all grown up now. And what a hypocrite that would make me." He took a steadying breath before continuing in a thick voice, "I don't care. You're my little girl. You're my little girl and you're supposed to be safe and happy." 

"Dad," she said through a sob she couldn't hold back.

"Who am I? What am I if I can't keep you safe?" He asked in a pleading, broken voice. "When that's the only thing I want in the world." 

Darcy pressed her face into his neck and held on, not sure what to say. "The best dad. That's what you are. You're the best dad."

"I pulled you into—"

"No, you didn't." She shook her head and drew back to look up at him, at the deep lines and wan expression on his face. "Nobody pulled me. You taught me to stand my ground. We don't give up."

He ground his teeth. "Don't feed me a 'we're Starks' line."

"But we are."

"So the fuck what?" He set his jaw stubbornly and she leaned up to kiss his cheek. 

"I love you, dad."

He closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I don't deserve you."

"That's crap," she huffed, annoyed.

"Whatever." He shrugged, uncomfortable. "By the laws of rich guys kids, you should be in like your sixth stint in rehab and on the front page of every celebrity trash mag."

She raised an eyebrow and regarded him with some skepticism. "That's preferable to being in SHIELD?"

"No," he allowed with a sigh. "I was a disaster when I was your age. How'd you get so well adjusted?"

"I had you. And mom, dad, grandpa Jim, grandma Carol, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy. You didn't. Well, you had Rhodey, but he's just one man. He did his best."

Tony rubbed at his beard, considering that. "Obie."

"To hell with Obie," Darcy snarled, giving into the sharp, hot spike of helpless rage in her chest that always accompanied mention of his name. "He enabled you, left you to flounder, bitched about it, then tried to murder you. I hope he's rotting in hell."

Bobbing his head and blinking in surprise, Tony frowned. "You have some anger issues there."

"When I think of Obie, I really, deeply understand Hulk," she told him in a grim, hard voice.

Tony considered her for a moment and ran a hand over her hair, tucking a piece behind her ear. "I didn't know."

"Yeah, well." It was her turn to shrug uncomfortably. 

"Is that why you're doing this?" He asked. "SHIELD, I mean?"

"No. Well, sort of?" She frowned up at him. "Not specifically. Is it why you do the Iron Man thing?"

Tony thought about that for a long minute. "At first. I was irresponsible. I never looked at what he was doing. I didn't care. He made a mess of the world, but it was my fault. I let him." He pursed his lips and looked at her. "I do it because I can. Because I can help stop the next Obie."

"That's why I do it. Because I think about what he could have done if he'd killed you and I never knew. And because I can." She bit her lip and grabbed a handful of his shirt. "And I want to help you. I know it's scary, and it's dangerous, but, dad, if you ever got hurt and I knew there was something I could have done about it, I couldn't live with myself." Her chin quivered and she took a deep breath. "I watched you fall."

"It's not your job to look out for me," he told her. 

"It is. I made it my job. And then Fury and Coulson made it official, so there." She tilted her chin up, daring him to challenge that. 

His lips twitched into an almost smile but it faded and he narrowed his eyes at her. "So what was Estonia?"

"Well, okay, so I'll kick Hydra, too, when I get the chance." She rubbed at her tired eyes and looked up at the ceiling. "Hydra. Can you f'in believe it? I mean, it's been months, but sometimes it's still just the craziest damned thing in the world. _Hydra_. "

"Crazier than you running off with an ex-Hydra assassin who used to be Bucky Barnes?" He asked with a casual air, but his voice had a bite to it. 

And there it was. She actually expected him to pop off about Bucky right away, so it was impressive he'd held off so long. "He still is Bucky Barnes," she defended, a warning in her tone. "Lay off him, dad. He was there when I escaped. I don't know if I would have made it all the way out if he hadn't turned up."

He didn't look like he wanted to accept that, but he held his tongue for the moment. "How did you escape?"

Darcy adjusted to clear the IV line and pull him up next to her, then she leaned back on his shoulder and told him the tale, every single detail, glossing over nothing. She owed it to him.

She knew she'd spread herself too thin, too many secrets, too many parts of her life broken into little chunks. It was wearing on her, and had been for a while. Compartmentalization, was the term. But that's what led to SHIELD falling apart, and she really, _really_ didn't want to be Fury Jr. There had to be somebody to whom she could tell all her things, somebody who could help her carry the load. And if it couldn't be her father, she really didn't know who else could or would do it, or who else she'd want to let in that far. 

Maybe if she hadn't been so worried about what he might do, maybe if she hadn't spent so much time trying to manage him, maybe if she'd trusted him to watch her back, as she insisted he do for her, then … well, maybe things would have been easier. Maybe he wouldn't be so scared, maybe he wouldn't take out that fear on the others. Maybe he wouldn't lock her in a bunker.

Maybe together they could actually handle the crazy. 

"Blew it to hell?" Tony asked as she wrapped up her story. 

"Yeah. Big explosion. Really impressive." Darcy nodded. "Kinda bigger than I was expecting, honestly."

"It's the only way to do it," he said with a small smile. It was a little forced, he was clearly unsettled by her experience, but she could see the pride in his eyes. "And Humorless von Interrogator?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. It had crossed her mind to wonder how many people may have been on that base when it blew, but since they'd psychologically tortured her, threatened physical torture, and tried very hard to kill her and her friends more than once, her conscience didn't nag an awful lot. Maybe that was cold, or callous, but she didn't feel like this was a moral gray area — they were bad guys, they were evil, in the original sense of the term. They were literally mass-murdering Nazis. 

"But Bucky went back to the base after Sif came to get me. I think he was, you know," she threw up the finger quotes, " _cleaning up_."

"Good," Tony said with teeth bared in a hard, angry scowl. 

"Yeah. You know, he's trying, dad," she said, craning her head to look up at him. "He really is. I see more of Bucky in him every time. He's Bucky Barnes. He is."

He chewed at his mustache. "And if we find out he really did kill your grandparents?"

Darcy sighed and dropped her head back on his shoulder. "I think he did," she admitted, and lord, it hurt to do so. "But, he was the weapon. The things they did to him. God, dad." She choked on the words and had to swallow heavily a couple of times before she could continue. "He doesn't remember very much, but he remembers what they did to him. They hurt him for so long, and they turned him into a weapon. Into _their_ weapon, and they pointed him at anybody they didn't like, anybody who threatened to expose them. But, it was Hydra, not Bucky."

"He's dangerous," Tony argued, his face tight and his eyes a little wild — the beginning edges of panic again. 

"So are you," she told him gently. 

"Not to you."

"Neither is he."

Her father looked dubious but he nodded. "I'll trust your judgement for now. But, just to be crystal clear, I don't really like it."

"Will it make it easier if I tell you if I go out on an op with him again? Or, you know, is it better if I just stick with the general 'job for Phil' bit?" She asked with sincere curiosity. She'd do this however made him feel less panicked. 

"I'd rather know. I can be a reasonable, rational person." She snorted at that and he glowered at her. "Besides, you made me yell at Agent about that whole thing."

"You were on the backup list," she pointed out. 

"After _Barton_ ," he said, sounding scandalized.

"I thought we needed eyes more than a flier. In retrospect, a flier would have been good." She gave him an apologetic frown. "I put it in my after-action report."

"Great. Really fabulous," he grumped irritably. 

"Coulson would have had you on the horn in two seconds if he hadn't been so hot to meet Bucky that he flew out himself."

"Am I the only person who's not all in with that guy?" Tony threw a hand up in the air, then roughly shoved his fingers through his hair. "Rogers doesn't see clearly when it comes to him. Coulson's smitten. And I don't know what you are, but I will say it again, I don't like it," he grumbled, sounding exasperated and baffled.

"So, if I tell you he asked me out dancing, you'll be thrilled, is what you're saying?"

Tony went still and his voice dropped down into a very chilly place. "He did what?"

Darcy snickered and patted his arm. "He was hella stoned. Relax."

"I didn't know super soldiers could get stoned," he said, aggravation turning into curiosity, his eyes alight with interest. A curiosity and interest that might be bad news for Steve at some point in the future. She'd have to tell him to never accept any brownies from Tony.

"Hydra cocktail," Darcy said. "Simmons was going to send Bruce a report on Bucky's blood work from that."

Tony turned his head over to Bruce, who'd moved himself out of earshot to give them some privacy. "Bruce!"

Bruce jumped a little and turned a glare at Tony. "What?"

"Did you get a report on super soldier goofyjuice?" 

"What?" Bruce repeated with a confused frown.

Darcy rolled her eyes, and offered some clarification, "From Jemma Simmons? The tranq Hydra tried to use on Bucky?"

"Oh," He ran a hand across his jaw and looked back at his computer. "Yeah. The components in the sample degraded rapidly, and his metabolism burned through it pretty quick. We did manage to isolate a few elements and we've been working backwards from there. Nothing yet, though."

"Could be useful if anybody has to perform major surgery on Steve or something," Darcy suggested. 

"Maybe. Just from what I can see, though? It's a pretty nasty mix. I'll want to spend some time with it before I'm comfortable using it." Bruce pushed his glasses up on his nose. "But on that note, I can report you're clear. Nothing in your blood work." 

He walked over to them and fiddled with the IV, placing a cotton ball on the needle before sliding it gently out of her arm. He folded her arm up against the cotton and stepped back. "So, as, uh, your doctor, I'm ordering you to rest for a few days. Sleep as much as you need to. Get some real food, but take it easy on your stomach. If you start to feel light-headed or dizzy, any headaches, come back here. And if you have any trouble sleeping tonight, I can give you an Ambien."

"She'll take it," Tony said, holding out his hand.

"Dad," she protested, slapping his arm down. "How about I actually make an effort first?"

"No," he said with a sharp shake of his head. "You need to sleep."

"And I'm sure I will."

Tony watched her closely to for a long minute, tossed a glance at Bruce, and then looked back at her. "I didn't sleep for months after I got back from Afghanistan."

Darcy winced at the reminder. This wasn't an experience either of them ever wanted to have in common, she was certain. "In fairness, you've never slept like a normal person."

"Just …" Tony flailed a hand at her and pushed himself off the bed — the better to brace his feet in absolute, immovable stubbornness when arguing. "Take a pill with you. If you don't need it, fine. If you do, then you'll have it."

Bruce shrugged behind him and crossed to the medicine cabinet and pulled out a couple bottles. "He has a point. But, if you'd prefer, there's always Benadryl. Just, don't take them together." Bruce turned back to her with a small, white paper cup with three pills inside. "The red and white are Benadryl."

Darcy took the cup and leaned towards Bruce, bringing the side of one hand up to her mouth and whispering loudly, "If I crush them up in his scotch, will he taste it?"

Tony growled, and Bruce pursed his lips, smiling with some reluctance — he found himself caught between Tony and Darcy's little spats more often than anybody would ever want. 

"Stick with the antihistamines," he told her, "you could maybe slip it into the soup."

"Not really in the mood," Tony grumbled, his voice tight, strained. 

"Sorry," Darcy mumbled, then tugged on her father's arm. "Let's get out of here."

They walked out, Darcy tossing a wave to Bruce, and Tony steered them to the elevator and hit the button for the penthouse. "Things I learned about Rogers over the last two weeks — the man cooks when he's worried."

"Is he a good cook?"

"Eh." Tony shrugged. "Not bad. Seriously considered just opening a Whole Foods in your room while you were gone, though. Also, he stress eats. Between him and Thor, we should invest more in the ag business."

Darcy snorted and leaned wearily against the elevator wall. "As I understand it, diversification is good."

"It's more self-defense; I don't know if we're rich enough to keep feeding them."

"Clint has a farm," she offered.

Tony stared at her and laughed a little. "No shit?"

"With goats and everything. Or sheep. I don't remember." Her jaw cracked on a wide yawn. "Maybe both."

"Awesome." He shook his head. "Fucking hayseed."

"Coastie snob," Darcy countered.

Tony hooked his arm around her neck and pulled her closer. "Field trip to hoe the fields? Is that a thing you do? I think it is."

"I'm pretty sure they have machines for that now," she laughed and leaned against him.

"Jesus, I hope so."

The elevator arrived on the penthouse floor and Darcy got four steps in before she was tackled by Captain America. She let out an oof and grabbed his arm to keep herself upright. 

"Don't maul my daughter," Tony grumbled, forced away from her by Steve's desperate lunge. 

"Sorry," Steve said, stepping back. He put both his hands on her shoulders and just looked at her for a long minute. "We looked everywhere."

She gave him a short nod. "China."

"Thor said." Shaking his head, Steve closed his eyes and pulled her in for another, less aggressive hug. "I'm sorry we didn't find you."

"It's okay. I know you were looking. It made a difference," she assured him, then crooked a smile. "Besides, I got myself out."

Steve laughed a little and let go of her again. "I don't doubt it." He eyed her critically. "You've lost weight. You should eat. There's some leftovers."

Tony leaned close to mutter in her ear, "What did I say?" 

Steve gave Tony a narrow-eyed look, then bracing her between the both of them, dragged her off to the kitchen. "How's soup sound?"

Darcy shot Tony a teasing look, trying again to jolly him out of this pained, heavy mood. "Sounds awesome."

"Pass," Tony told her flatly, still not in the mood for that particular joke. 

"I'm okay, dad," she told him in a quiet voice.

He just shrugged and let go of her long enough to push her into a chair at the table. "He's right, though. Bruce said you should eat, so you should eat."

For the next half hour the pair fussed and pressed small dishes at her, Tony watching to make sure Steve didn't hand her anything he thought might be too heavily spiced or rich. Chicken soup, fine. Lasagna, are you trying to make her puke, Rogers? Cherry pie … a small slice. Neither of them could decide if the savory buns would be too much, but a spinach salad was deemed safe. She rolled her eyes, but picked dutifully at everything they handed her. Just a few bites here and there, she wasn't terribly hungry, but she was content to sit safe in the loving, slightly smothering embrace of her very strange family. 

Jane and Thor joined them during a heated conversation about ginger chicken — Steve was suspicious, but Tony insisted it was fine. Thor thought a good herb and oatmeal-stuffed roast boar was just the thing to rebuild her strength. Steve and Tony stared at him while Jane made Darcy some tea. 

"A week ago they were arguing over the best way to take out Hydra bases," Jane murmured, sliding the mug at her. "This is an improvement." Darcy offered her a wan smile and sipped at the tea. Jane smiled and rubbed Darcy's back gently. "Erik's catching the first flight back from Stockholm tomorrow."

"He doesn't have to do that," Darcy said.

"Of course he doesn't have to. But he wants to." Jane gave her a final pat on the back and poured herself a mug of tea. "Besides, we want to try and figure out why Heimdall couldn't see you."

"I have no idea, honestly," Darcy told her with a helpless shrug. 

Jane tilted her head back and forth a little, considering the problem. "We'll work on it."

Thor set a giant bowl of banana pudding on the table and dished out a serving for Darcy. "I know not why this is called pudding, it is no resemblance to the black puddings my mother would give us as children when we were unwell, but your father assures me this will be easy for you to eat."

Darcy shuddered at the thought of black pudding and shook her head. "I'm kind of full. They've been feeding me for like an hour."

Thor was undeterred and pushed the dish at her. "Two bites," he said firmly, raising his head in a princely manner to gaze down at her, watching until she obeyed. He must have been feeling left out of the chance to smother. The gaze was crazy intimidating, though, and Darcy kept one eye on him while she ate two little spoonfuls. 

"Okay?"

Thor sighed. "Very well."

Darcy slid her gaze over to Jane. "Your kids are going to be so screwed."

Jane seemed unconcerned. "I'm sure aunt Darcy will spoil them."

Thor grinned broadly and set himself to eating his way through the rest of the pudding. 

"There she is," a voice boomed from the doorway and Darcy turned her head to smile at Clint. "How's my favorite trainee?"

"Your only trainee." Darcy smirked at him. "They weren't crazy enough to let you ruin anybody else."

Clint huffed and crossed to the table to give her a quick one-armed hug from behind. "Smartass. Glad to see you, anyway." He pouted at Thor's destruction of the banana pudding and wandered over to the fridge. "Anything left, Rogers?"

Steve waved a hand. "Plenty. Meatloaf will be done in a bit, if you want to hold off."

"Nah," Clint said with a shrug, sticking his head in the refrigerator. 

Tony was still watching her, not ready to take his eyes off of her. "You want a nap?"

"No," she shook her head. "I'm fine for now."

"When was the last time you slept?" He pressed.

"I honestly don't know." She rubbed a hand over her face. "I don't even know what today is."

"Thursday, the 22nd," Steve told her. 

"Great," Darcy sighed. "I don't want to sleep now."

Tony's gaze remained steady. "It was like one in the morning in China when you were picked up."

Darcy pressed her lips together and tried not to snap when she said, "Well, considering I thought it was the middle of the day, I'm right on schedule, then."  
She was worn, and the hovering was nice but getting to her. But, honestly, she didn't want to be alone. She wanted to be surrounded by the people she knew, she wanted to sit and zone and listen to their chatter and just … be home. 

"Just… I just want to sit here, okay?"

"Yeah, okay, sure." Tony leaned back against the counter island and crossed his arms. "We could watch a movie?"

"Maybe later."

"Alright."

Natasha was the next to arrive, and gave her a small smile and quick, yet thorough once over, then she glanced at Tony and seemed to make an equally quick evaluation of his mental state. Content with whatever she saw, she gave Darcy's shoulder a squeeze, murmured a low "Welcome home, Dashyenka," and walked over to grab a plate of chicken from Clint. 

"I let Coulson know that you're back," Natasha told her. "He wants to Skype with you later."

"Sure."

"Tomorrow," Tony cut in.

"Tomorrow," Darcy echoed. Tony was being extraordinarily patient, but there were limits on how far that went, and she was okay with him setting those limits for the moment. 

Natasha raised an eyebrow but let it go. "I heard there was an explosion in Qinghai."

"I maybe made things explode," Darcy agreed, with a modest tilt of her head; though, she still couldn't quite believe that whole crazy plan worked. Most of the escape felt like a weird dream, but the explosion was some sort of out-of-body thing. 

"Atta girl," Clint crowed and grinned at her. Darcy rolled her eyes, but gave him a smile in return. 

"Did Barnes find you?"

"Yeah, as I was, you know," Darcy waved a hand in a vague, circular gesture, " _leaving_. You saw him?"

"Briefly." Natasha's eyes darted over to Steve and then back to her chicken.

Darcy frowned at her father. "What was that?"

"Nothing," he said piously. 

"Liar." Darcy looked at the others who were looking at food or their shoes or each other. Except Steve, who's face was screwed up in a thoughtful grimace. "Steve?"

He let out a harsh breath, his expression morphing into a resigned, humorless smile. "We drew more attention than Director Coulson was happy with. I guess some people are wondering what we were doing and why. It made the news."

"All the news," Clint put in, looking up from his busy task of stealthily transferring the vegetables from his plate to Natasha's.

"Pepper and Hill covered it as an anti-Hydra sweep," Natasha said with a half shrug, brushing off Clint's fork with a stab of her own. "Which, it was. In a way."

Darcy pressed a hand to her mouth, overcome by a sudden urge to giggle like a little girl. Exhaustion. Had to be. "Chaos and mayhem for me? You guys, that's totally the sweetest thing anybody's ever done for me."

Jane made an amused sound and leaned companionably against Darcy. "I would have done it myself, but they all insisted on helping."

Tony clapped his hands, eager to change the subject. "If you're done eating, let's go dial up a flick and maybe you'll sleep or something." Everybody else stood and Tony scowled. "None of you are invited."

"Dad."

"What?"

"Go get Bruce."

They stared each other down for a minute before he finally sighed. "Whatever."

"And find my backup glasses or something, would you?" Darcy called after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For various reasons my attempts to finish this chapter were thwarted repeatedly. So, expect the second half of this ... maybe tomorrow?


	11. Chapter 11

As her father predicted, Darcy slept in fitful spurts and snatched naps. Her nights were broken by panicked bouts of sudden wakefulness where, for just a moment, she'd have to remember she wasn't in a cell anymore. If it was too dark, if it was too bright, if it was too quiet. Jarvis tried to find some combination of low light and white noise that would keep her comfortable. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. 

Each of the Avengers offered their own patient suggestions on how to cope, but Clint was, maybe surprisingly, the most helpful. Though, after his experience with Loki, perhaps it wasn't entirely so surprising. 

Clint made her talk out her captivity and interrogation over and over again until Darcy wanted to strangle him, but he wouldn't let up. He forced her to go over everything she did and everything she could have done differently. He talked her through the panic and sleepless nights and weary mornings. And little by little they chipped away at the fear and Darcy felt herself regaining some control. Or maybe, it was more that she was able to acknowledge, to understand, past the desperation and fear, how much control she'd had, how much of her own will she'd been able to exercise even during Humorless's joyless interrogations and threats, and the long, lonely days in her cell. 

After her talk with Coulson, and her morning Barton irritation-slash-therapy sessions, the general consensus was that she was an opportunistic grab by Hydra. They were watching the Tower, and having been on the inside of SHIELD they knew her history with Thor, that she reported directly to Fury, and that even though she was, to all appearances, retired from SHIELD, she was still in place close to the Avengers Initiative. They were curious, and took the chance to see what they could get from the sensitively placed, yet bafflingly unremarkable agent. 

Her abduction did make clear how closely Hydra was watching the Avengers, however, and that didn't sit easily with anybody. Though, given the damage the team did to them in the wake of her disappearance, it would be a while before Hydra were able to pull themselves together enough to chance another encounter with the Avengers. 

And speaking of the damage they caused, Clint hadn't been kidding about them making all the news. Darcy spent the better part of two days catching up on their activities. The team hit more than a half dozen sites across the world, and they hit them hard. Cell phone recordings, news reports, vines, whatever else, had captured pitched battle after pitched battle. Captain America leading the troops into combat against Hydra again, for the first time in over half a century, was a pretty big thrill, and the ratings hungry news channels and hit greedy blogs ate it up. 

There was the predictable broad spectrum of responses — from people still reeling after the SHIELD disaster who weren't comfortable with a paramilitary organization of so-called superheroes making unilateral attacks on locations in sovereign nations, to people happy there was a group of so-called superheroes willing to take on Hydra and the dark memory of their Nazi past. Even General Talbot, who'd climbed way down from his massive SHIELD witch hunt, spoke up in favor of the Avengers moves, with the only caveat being that they really needed to ask before they went in to a country and started smashing places down. Which was how Tony got himself arrested.

An island off the coast of Thailand was identified as a Hydra location. When the Avengers arrived, the Thai government had some reservations, but they sent one of their Defense Ministry deputies to negotiate the inspection. That was all well and good, up to the moment he tried to extort a bribe. That part wasn't reported at first, what did make a big splash was Tony attacking the man and landing himself in jail. When the extortion came to light, the Thai government fell over themselves to clear a path for the Avengers, their own royal navy offering support off the coast as the team went in. Tony paid for the Thai end of the operation, the government pardoned him, and everybody went home happy. Well, not the Avengers, their search was a bust, but Thailand was happy the site had been made unusable by Hydra. Nobody wanted those assholes in their country. 

Tony punching the guy out was not forgotten so easily, however, and there was a lot of speculation about what, exactly, had Iron Man so keyed up, and why the Avengers chose now to make a move against Hydra. But, there was a common thread in the speculation — the Avengers were looking for something or somebody. And when their searching stopped abruptly, speculation on what or who they _found_ spiked for a few days. Darcy's abduction was never mentioned in the context of these raids, nobody on the national scene made the connection. There were a few small, local pieces in the NY Daily News and the Albany Times Union covering the mystery of the missing intern, her car found abandoned at the side of the road, with a plea from the Albany police for any information. But that story faded quickly, probably the moment Coulson got information Hydra was behind it, and the case was handed off to the local FBI field office, and from there it was quietly closed two days after she returned home. SHIELD might be a shadow of its former self, but Coulson still had strings he could pull. 

While the news media hadn't made the connection between the Avengers activities and her disappearance, somebody else surely did. There was no way the rest of Hydra could miss that once they kidnapped her their world came crumbling down. The question that haunted Darcy was what would they do about it now? Would she be a bigger target, or would they decide to leave her be out of fear of the wrath of gods and monsters and genius billionaires? And the second question that haunted her, and seemed to nag at the others as well, was who else noticed? 

It was more comforting than she could ever put into words to know that there were people who would and could quite literally move mountains to find her. The Avengers, SHIELD, Asgard, and even via Rhodey, though in a much more low-key and bureaucratically bound manner, the US Air Force, all searched for her. But, and she would never tell Tony this, she privately thought Coulson was right. They could have been a little more subtle. She'd always known, however, that if anything ever happened to her, her father would declare war. And so he had. The fall-out from that was simply something they would have to manage as well as they could. And it didn't suck that Hydra took a big, ugly knock on the jaw. 

Pondering all of this wore her down, and Tony hounded her to rest, banning her from the labs, and he even tried to ban her from talking to Coulson. She put her foot down there, but Coulson agreed. Weird things were afoot at the Playground, but he wasn't saying what, and he and Tony joined forces to insist she rest up, refusing to give her anything to do. There'd be plenty of work later, Phil said. Her most important task was to be ready when the day came that he needed her. Coulson was entirely too good at guilt. Between him and Tony she never had a chance. 

And if all that hadn't been stressful and worrying enough, calling home was even worse. Listening to her mother cry on the other side of the country tore at Darcy in ways she wouldn't recover from any time soon. She'd remember that sound every time she went out into the field. The last thing that Darcy ever wanted was to make her parents cry, to make them terrified for her life. For days she struggled with her drive to serve SHIELD and this life she'd chosen for herself, and her desire to never hear her mother's voice cracking in just that way again. The whole family was coming out for a visit on the weekend — even Rico, whose worry for her overrode his fear of Tony. It would be wonderful and painful to see them all again. 

Early one evening about a week after her return, she lay on her bed during one of her enforced pre-dinner naps. Seriously, it's like they thought she was three. The care and hovering were endearing at first, but now it was starting to rub at her. Another week of this and she'd snap for entirely different, non-Hydra related reasons. Thumbing listlessly through her iPod, she tried to drown out the too quiet room, but nothing in her vast and eclectic musical library was doing anything other than grate on her nerves. With a grunt of disgust, she tossed the iPod towards her bedside table and considered hitting up Netflix, but nothing sounded good there, either. She could read? Nothing was interesting. She could stare blankly at the ceiling. There was the winner. 

Darcy thought about the path of her life. Could she give up SHIELD? Could she walk away from the Avengers? And if she did, what then? What would she do with her life? She'd never be entirely free of them, her father was Iron Man, after all. Her best friend was Captain America. Her mentor and steady rock was the Director of SHIELD. Her sister from another mother was dating the God of Thunder, and could she ever leave her crazy, pants-hating Swedish not-uncle? Her life would be too quiet without Thor's laughter. And she'd worry about Bruce. She'd wonder how Clint's sheep were doing, and she'd miss Natasha's terrible jokes. 

No. No, she couldn't walk away. As much as she hated making her family worry, that was the only thing that made her consider walking, and that wasn't enough. She couldn't and wouldn't live her life in fear, and that included the fear of her family's distress. She liked where she was, she fit in this weird world; it was hers, and she embraced it. She could do without the moments of pants-wetting terror, but if she was gone, who'd do the mental 'who's bleeding in a ditch tonight' check? If she wasn't there, who'd pull Bucky out of some death trap in eastern Europe? Who'd be around to point out Steve wasn't invincible? Who'd remember Natasha was an actual human being? She'd spent aimless years in college, with vague ideas of her future, until a Norse god fell from the sky. From the reality of that surreal moment, the universe opened up before her, and Darcy Lewis had a path at last. 

Smiling up at the ceiling, a feeling of peace settled on her, and the little dents and cracks of her, gnawed away by Hydra, began to smooth over. She was tougher than those fuckers, to hell with them. They wouldn't undo everything she'd done, they wouldn't undermine her confidence, they wouldn't take this life away from her. Not by force or by proxy. They'd taken three weeks from her, and that was three weeks too many; they'd made her doubt the place she was most certain of, and that was unforgivable. 

The ringing of her phone brought her out of the building, heartening swell of her fresh resolve. She reached for it and let out a hearty, "Yo!"

"You sound better," Bucky greeted. 

Darcy's smile grew — not bleeding in a ditch, check. "I am. I just … had to think things through. You called as I was having an epiphany or something."

"Should I call back when you're done?" He asked, humor lacing his voice.

"Nah, I've hit peak epiphany. Talk to me while I'm feeling good. Depending on how much more hovering I have to put up with, I may need to strangle my father later this week, and my parents are coming into town in a couple days, and my brother, and my grandparents, and Rico. I'm sure that will all be super emotionally exhausting. So, really, take advantage of the now."

"You feel up for coming out for dinner?"

"I'd be very up for that," she said eagerly. The thought of leaving the Tower after a week inside was alluring. Except, things were different now. "But, it's gonna depend on where, and I'm sorry, but for now, I have to break our 24 hour agreement. If I try to sneak out of the Tower, my father will have some sort of attack. I can't do that to him."

"It's okay," he assured her, and he did a good job of making it sound like that really was okay with him. "I said I'd see you in a few days, and it's just a bite to eat. There's a place about a block and a half from you, some diner."

"Cassie's?"

"Yeah, that's it. Looks okay."

"They have amazing waffles and they serve breakfast all day," she sighed the happy sigh of someone who knew the joy of breakfast for dinner. Her appetite had started to come back after a couple of days, and while Steve kept trying to feed her like she was him, the pull of waffles was strong and there wasn't a waffle iron in the Tower. She totally had to fix that. Later. "I'm in."

Bucky laughed a little. "How's half an hour?"

"I'll see you there." 

She pushed herself up off her bed and ran a hand through her hair, wincing at the tangles. After five minutes of trying to wrestle her hair into some sort of shape suitable for public viewing, she gave up and grabbed a hat. Then she went in search of her father. 

Darcy promised Tony no more lies, and she'd promised herself she'd open up to him more. Time to test how well this new arrangement would actually work. He still wasn't high on Bucky, but he gave the other man points for the assist during Darcy's escape, and for trying to protect her from the unknown threat of the Bifrost and Lady Sif. 

Tony was in his workshop, tapping his way through a complex wall of code. Darcy frowned at it; there were parts she recognized from Jarvis's programming, but the rest looked unfamiliar. He shut down the display before she could look more closely and spun in his chair to face her. 

"Hey, kid, you look … a hell of a lot better. You were damned mopey earlier today."

She pointed a thumb at herself and smiled. "I had an epiphany. It was very freeing."

He puzzled over that and cocked his head at her. "Good?"

"Awesome," she corrected.

"You want to share this epiphany?"

"Just that I'm happy where I am and Hydra can screw off."

Tony chuckled a little and nodded. "Glad to hear it."

She wandered over to his desk and jumped up to sit on the edge. "Have you braced yourself for the invasion of the Lewises?" 

Tony rolled his eyes and shrugged. "It's your place, too. They were here for a couple days when you first went missing, anyway. I think Sam forgot half his luggage when he left."

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Ah, Sam. Never change."

"I was going to send it back to him with some other stuff, but he can just get it himself now."

"I'm sure he'll forget something."

"Probably." Tony looked her over and smiled, baring his teeth in a knowing grin, picking up that there was more she wanted than just a simple chat. "So, what do you want?"

"I want to go out to grab some food," she said, then tilted her head and squinted at him, bracing herself, "with Bucky."

Tony's lips thinned, disappearing behind his beard. "I don't like this."

"He promised me he'd check in. And it's just down the street. Cassie's Diner. I can bring you back some rugalach. You know you love it."

He was silent for a long moment, but she could see the muscles in his jaw and temple jumping as he ground his teeth. "By yourself?"

"Bucky will be there." She curled her fingers around the edge of the desk and leaned towards him, her expression both pleading and cajoling. "Between you here and Bucky there, this will be the safest block and a half anywhere on the planet."

He sucked at his cheeks and looked away from her, then stood and walked over to a side bench. He pulled out a box, opened it, and waved a hand for her to join him. "Wear these." He held out a pair of thin, silvery bracelets. 

She took them and turned them over in her hands. "Dad, is this …" She looked up at him and couldn't quite decide if she wanted to frown or smile. "Did you make me a suit?"

"Maybe," he said cagily. He took a bracelet from her and clapped it around one of her wrists. 

She decided to smile. "What color is it?"

He huffed a reluctant laugh. "Just the base titanium alloy. I figured if I ever, you know, told you about it, you could choose your own colors."

She put the other bracelet on, earning a relieved smile from him. "You weren't going to tell me?"

"I wasn't sure how you'd take it," he admitted, looking a touch embarrassed. "It's for emergencies. It's not quite as _weaponized_ as mine. Keep the bracelets on, if you're grabbed, all you have to do is tap here," he showed her a spot on the bracelet. "Once they're activated, Jarvis is on board, he and the suit will find you." He stepped back and nodded, satisfied with the suit plan. "We'll go out some day and you can learn to fly it."

Darcy nodded along, but had one very important question. "I want to see this suit, but not right this second. But, tell me honestly, did you take into account the girls in your design?" She waved a hand at her chest and raised an eyebrow at him. 

Tony rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Yes, Jarvis has all your measurements."

"Good. Just, you know, there's a comfort factor there. A lot of people really don't consider it. And actually, I've totally been meaning to talk to you about body armor designs, because seriously, those vests are ridic."

"I'll come up with something for you," he said, then cocked his head and looked thoughtful. "Bad fit?"

"Terrible."

"Right. Okay. I'll work on it."

Darcy put a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. "Best dad."

"Damn straight. Go to your shady dinner meeting with the assassin," he waved a hand at the door and started back to his computer. 

"Okay, first off, it's Bucky, and second, it's just a regular dinner at a diner that's literally down the street," she pointed out with all the patience she could muster. And since she was still feeling pretty good, that was quite a bit. "The diner with the waitress who's almost as old as Steve, who calls you Tony Sweet Cheeks. You know exactly where I'll be."

"Fine. And, yes, bring me rugalach. It's not as good as Anna used to make, but it's pretty close." Tony didn't talk about his childhood a lot, but when he did, his better memories included the Jarvises. Jarvis cleaned out his skinned knees, dusted him off, chased nightmares away, and Anna spoiled him rotten with sweets and affection. Darcy'd always been curious about her grandparents, and even with Tony's rocky relationship with them, she'd wished a time or two she'd gotten to meet them. But Jarvis, oh, how she dreamed time and again that she could have met Edwin and Anna Jarvis. 

"I'll text you when I get there and I'll text you on my way back, okay?"

He hunched his shoulders and let out a long breath. "Yeah, that's … yeah. Okay."

Darcy gave him a fortifying pat on the back and left him to whatever the hell he was working on.

She made it to the elevator when Jarvis spoke up, "Captain Rogers is looking for you."

Darcy sighed and dropped her head back on her shoulders. "Where is he?"

"Dr. Foster's lab."

"Thanks, Jarvis." She chewed on her lip and debated leaving a message with Jarvis and just heading out. But, as much as she couldn't just take off on Tony, she didn't feel she could do that to Steve either. And she had warned Bucky. Sort of. 

She stepped into the elevator and hit the button for two floors down. Once there she didn't have far to go before running into Steve. 

He was just leaving Jane's lab and he grinned when he saw her. "I was looking for you."

"Jarvis said. What's up?"

He considered her for a moment. "You look like you're feeling pretty good."

"I am, actually," she agreed and grinned back. 

"I was wondering what you wanted for dinner. Thought maybe you could pitch in for once," he said with a teasing, challenging smirk. 

"Normally I'd say yes, though, you're crazy because my cooking skills suck and you know it."

"It just takes practice," he said with stout assurance. "But 'normally' meaning not today?"

Darcy licked her lips and sighed, then dove in. Rip the bandaid off, right? "Yes. Because Bucky called and he wants to meet me at the diner down the street."

Steve stared for a moment then scratched at the back of his neck. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You're going by yourself?"

Darcy held up one arm and flicked the silver bracelet. "Apparently my dad made me an emergency suit. And, _seriously_ , the diner's a block and a half away. Plus, pretty sure Hydra doesn't want to see what happens if they try to grab me again."

"I … uh," Steve stumbled, looking like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure if he should.

"You know, you never did tell me what happened when you talked to Bucky while I was gone."

"Nothing, really. He found us at a site in Europe." He frowned and glanced over his shoulder at the door to Jane's lab. "I guess Dr. Foster yelled at him a little bit."

Darcy snorted and nodded. "He said. She's tiny, but she's scary."

Steve gave her a crooked smile. "She's not so bad. But, yeah, he caught up to us, and wanted to know the details. Then he said he had some places he could look. That was it."

"Really?"

Steve braced his hands on his hips and stared down at his shoes. "Pretty much." Then he glanced up at her from under his absurdly long eyelashes. "Can I walk you?"

"I'm not sure—"

He shrugged, awkward. "I just want to say 'hi'. I won't stay if he doesn't want me to."

Darcy looked at him, took in his hangdog expression, and his sad half smile, then stepped forward and gave him a hug. "Yeah, come on." She let go of him, but slid an arm around his waist and steered him to the elevator. "I hear the distant sound of waffles begging me to devour them. I'm helpless to resist their call."

Steve let out a little laugh. "Is that right?" 

"It really is." They stepped into the elevator and she hit the button for the lobby. "Hey Jarvis, tell dad that Steve's going to walk me to the diner, would you?"

"Of course, Darcy."

Darcy glanced up at Steve. "It'll make him feel better, so you're doing me a favor. He won't text me a hundred times in the next fifteen minutes."

He accepted that with a nod and a dry smile. "Always glad to help."

As they strolled down the sidewalk, her arm tucked companionably in Steve's, Darcy enjoyed the small, regained freedom of walking down a city street. They were both quiet, lost in thought. Darcy was wondering if Bucky would bolt when he saw Steve, and she worried this might feel like a betrayal. Steve was, no doubt, thinking very similar thoughts, if his gloomy expression was anything to go by. 

"He's getting closer," she said when they stopped at the corner and waited for the light.

"What?"

"Bucky. He's getting literally and figuratively closer." She waved a hand down the block towards the diner. "He's inching nearer and nearer to the Tower. Last time he was in the area and I saw him, he was like five blocks away. Now he's a block and a half. Next time he _might_ even cross the street." She thumped his arm in mock excitement then threw a hand up in the air before pronouncing grandly, "After that, who knows. Sky's the limit."

"Sure." Steve offered her a weak smile, but his eyes were still shadowed and the smile slipped off his lips almost as soon as it appeared. 

Darcy turned her face to the street and watched the signal. "I will get him into the Tower. It will happen. It might just be the lobby, but that counts. Oh, I won't force him. Nope. Not that I think I could." 

She chanced a glance up at Steve whose brows were lowered in a slightly puzzled frown. She returned to watching the street lights. "It'll be of his own free will. I might persuade, wheedle even, but when he walks through those doors, it'll be because that's where he wants to go." The light changed, and she gave a firm nod and started across, tugging Steve along at her side. "This is just another battle with Hydra, right?"

"I guess so."

"My family is coming in tomorrow night." The puzzlement in Steve's expression grew at the seeming non sequitur, but Darcy pressed on. This made sense in her head. "I think it's going to be kind of a suck weekend. I mean, it'll be good to see them, but, you know, emotional stuff. I'm feeling good right now, I feel like I got a grip on some things. I know it's not all automatically better, but for today, I feel pulled together."

Steve took his arm back, and slipped it around her shoulders instead, giving her a friendly tug into his side. "That's great."

"Right? So, while I'm feeling all confident and whatnot, I feel like I need to point out that we're going to win this. Maybe he won't want to see you. Maybe he'll leave. And it will hurt. But," they reached the other side of the street and Darcy turned to give Steve a fortifying poke in the chest, "we're going to win."

Steve looked away from her, he let his eyes slip past the street, over the buildings, the people, the cars, the rush and hubbub of the city. When his eyes finally dropped back to her, there was something swirling in the blue. Nothing Darcy could quite pick out — loss, pain, exhaustion — general weariness. "I believe you."

"But?" She prodded.

"No." He shook his head and gave a half shrug. "I just believe you."

She studied him, narrowing her eyes as she searched his face for any clue about what was going on in his head. "Okay."

He forced a small smile and held out his elbow. "Should we?" Letting out a gusty breath, she hooked her arm through his again and they started back on their way. 

At the diner, Steve took two quick steps forward to open the door for her. As she passed, she could see him square his shoulders and firm up his chin. Okay, so when she'd said it was just one more battle with Hydra, she'd been speaking more figuratively; he didn't need to look like he was about to face the Red Skull. She gave him a little nudge in the stomach with her elbow as she entered the restaurant. 

Tossing a wave at the waitress, she scanned the tables and booths for Bucky, Steve was a heavy weight at her back. She and Steve spotted him at the same time, against the far wall, a booth by the kitchen. He was hunched over a mug and watching them approach with his face a severe, blank mask. Oh, lord, this wasn't going to be fun. 

Darcy grabbed tight hold of her recently reacquired resolve and gave him a broad grin. "Good to see you, Barnes."

He nodded, but didn't take his eyes off Steve. "You, too, doll." Sliding out of the booth, he stood, waiting for her to sit. 

"Hey, Bucky," Steve greeted, his voice soft. 

Caught between the pair of them, Darcy wasn't sure what to do. Did she sit down and pretend this was all normal, or did she try to mediate? Steve looked like he wanted to cry, and Bucky looked like he wanted to run, and both of them stood locked, unmoving, in a weird nowhere place full of history and tragedy. 

"I … uh," Steve cleared his throat a couple of times. "I just wanted to say hi, and thanks for finding Darcy."

Bucky nodded and, after a quick glance at Darcy, raised his chin to Steve. "Sure. She pretty much got herself out, though."

"Yeah, yeah, I heard," Steve said quickly, forcing a truly pathetic attempt at a smile. "That's Darcy for you, huh?"

"Standing right here," Darcy muttered. 

Louise, the waitress Darcy was convinced had worked the diner since the Truman administration, came over with the menus and gave the two men a wary glance. "This gonna be a problem?" She asked Darcy.

"Nope, no problems," Darcy told her, taking the menus and sliding into the booth. 

"You want coffee?"

"Please."

Louise eyed the men again. "You got your hands full with these two, sweetheart," she said with a roll of her eyes and left.

Bucky grunted, irritable, and sat down again, while Steve hovered awkwardly at the end of the table. Giving his old friend a flat look, Bucky pointed at the bench Darcy was sitting on. "Sit down."

"Nah, that's okay," Steve said quickly. "I know, uh, I know you're checking in. I just …" He took a deep breath and scratched at his jaw. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I guess."

"You need anything? I mean, can I get—"

Bucky cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Lewis, here, keeps giving me things. I'm fine."

"Okay, sure." Steve looked around the dining room, anxious but uncomfortable. Despite his earlier words, he didn't want to leave, but clearly couldn't think of anything to say to justify staying. 

"Steve," Darcy said, breaking into his thoughts. "Come on, sit."

"No, really. You guys should catch up. And I'm sure you can stand a little break from me, huh?" He forced that same weak smile again. "Maybe some other time?" He asked, looking hopefully at Bucky.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, looking down at the menu, but watching Steve out of the corner of his eye. "Some other time."

"Great. It was good to see you again, Buck."

Bucky toyed absently with the corner of his menu, and gave a jerky nod. But when he didn't say anything after a second or two, Steve's shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. 

"Will you let me know when you get back home?" He asked Darcy, pulling his eyes away from Bucky. 

She winced at the downtrodden expression on his face, but Bucky had offered to let him sit. Bucky hadn't run. This was difficult, and uncomfortable, but it was a beginning not an ending, she felt certain. 

"I will," she promised him, trying to give him her best gentle, understanding face. She wasn't sure it worked, because he mostly just looked sick and sad when he gave them a little wave and left. 

Louise came back with a mug and carafe of coffee not long after. "Haven't seen you in a bit."

Darcy accepted the mug and held it steady while Louise poured. "I was out of town."

"You look too skinny. You want waffles?" Louise was all about getting to the heart of things. No small talk with this lady.

"Yup, gimme the works."

"Want I should put together a plate of rugalach for you to take to your pops? Haven't seen him in a while either."

Darcy was about to say yes, but then the words sank in and she froze. It hit Bucky, too, and he tensed up across from her. 

"My pops?" Darcy asked, trying to sound confused, but mostly she was feeling a little panicked. 

Louise huffed, seeming almost insulted. "I got eyes, don't I?"

"Uh, yes? Apparently?" Darcy muttered, her head still scrambling to find a way out of the surprise situation. Bucky snorted softly across from her.

"You two come in here, bicker, bicker, bicker. Peas in a pod." Louise set the carafe on the edge of the table and crossed her arms. "Oh, don't look like that. You and your friends, I know who they are, of course I do. We're a block from that big tower of yours. But, have they ever been mobbed here? Harassed? No, because this is an establishment where people come to feel at home, to relax with good food. We've got _discretion_."

"That's, yeah, that's very true," Darcy agreed. It wasn't like they were camped out at Cassie's all the time, but they went in often enough, in pairs or groups or even just a to-go pickup. To the best of Darcy's knowledge, the only people who approached the Avengers at the diner were kids. 

"Plus, I owe him; he helped us rebuild after those aliens. So, was that yes on the rugalach?" Louise gave her a thin-lipped look.

"Yes, please," Darcy said meekly. 

"Good." She glanced over at Bucky and frowned. "This one I don't know." She gave him a once over and Bucky grimaced, glancing down at his menu. "You're a good looking fellow, but you need a haircut. What can I get for you?"

Bucky stared at her for a moment, then pushed his menu towards her. "Steak and eggs, please."

"Got it." She collected the menus, topped off Bucky's mug, grabbed up the carafe and left. 

"She's what one might call _a character_ ," Darcy commented and let out a long breath. 

"You'd know, I guess," Bucky said with a shrug. 

"Hey now," Darcy kicked his leg under the table and scowled. 

He smiled and glanced around the dining room. "That bother you? Her knowing about your dad?"

Darcy chewed on her lip and the question for a moment before finally giving her head a resigned shake. "She's right — nobody bugs anybody here. And, I suppose it's not a surprise she'd figure it out. Dad and I don't usually go out together because of that, but, it's nice to be able to come here, at least."

Bucky nodded and took a sip of his coffee. "How've you been doing?"

Darcy heard the casual tone in his voice, but under that lay an unsettled edge, it lurked in the tightness in his jaw and the frown marring his forehead. "I feel like I should apologize for the Steve ambush, but I'm not going to. He just wanted to see you."

With a sigh, he pushed his mug away and crossed his arms on the table, staring down at the worn formica top. "It's hard, doll. Everything's such a mess in my head."

"I can't imagine," she admitted. 

"When I see him, it's … it's hard to describe. It's like my head, my brain, it jitters. Shakes, you know?" Pressing the finger tips of one hand to his head, he looked at her from under his lowered eyebrows. "It gets hard to hold a thought together." He drew his hand away from his head and swept it out away from him. "Everything scatters."

Darcy frowned at him thoughtfully. "I had no idea." 

"It's okay." He shrugged and pulled his mug back over to him. "Just one of those things, I guess."

Darcy wasn't ready to pass it off that quickly. That was a weird Goddamned thing to have happen in your head, and nothing about that was okay. "Hydra conditioning," she guessed. "I bet they fucked around in your head so it messed you up to think about him." Pressing her lips together in fury, she sat back in the booth and took a deep breath through her nose. "Every time I think, I couldn't hate those Nazi bastards any more than I already do, it's a bright, shining new day and I find out something else."

He worked his jaw side to side a couple times, then shrugged again. "Nothing to do for it now. Besides," he offered her a feral, bare-toothed smile, "backfired on 'em, huh?"

"That is a really excellent point," she acknowledged with a tip of her head.

He gave her a firm nod and leaned his elbows against the table. "So, you wanna tell me what happened when they had you?"

"Ah, nothing really." Feeling a little self-conscious, Darcy tapped a finger on the rim of her mug and watched the other diners in the restaurant. After everything he'd been through, what were a couple weeks of sleep deprivation?

"Come on, doll," he said in a low, calm voice, reaching out to tap the back of her hand and still her finger on the mug. It was the second, maybe third time, he'd voluntarily made physical contact with her, and she blinked down at his hand. "I've told you. Your turn."

Chewing on her lip, she thought it through and pondered the man in front of her, while he watched her back. Hesitation didn't come entirely from not wanting to relive the ordeal again — okay, mostly it came from that, but not all of it. They'd come a long damn way in the months since they met in DC. Bucky'd come a long way. But, when did this happen? When did they go to dinner at a place just down the street from Steve, Tony, and whichever of the others was wandering around? When did this become normal and just another thing?

Phil told her to build trust, build a rapport, form a relationship — but he neglected to tell her what to do after she managed all that. Because sitting here right now he wasn't her asset. Now it wasn't the give-a-little, push-a-little of shaping that trust. Now it was … what was this? Co-workers? Well, that was sort of a stretch. Friends? She'd take it. But, seriously, what was she supposed to do next?

While Darcy was ordering her thoughts, Louise brought their food, and as they ate, she decided Bucky deserved to hear the full story. As much as she was getting tired of hearing her own voice say the same words, having gone over it and over it with Clint, a lot of the sting and breathless panic had receded. There were no fun memories there, but it was easier with the telling. 

"And then you showed up and saved the day," she concluded, spreading her hands out over the table. 

"Right, you were two seconds from out of there." He gave her a look of patient disbelief. "I had to hustle, thought maybe you were going to take off without me."

"Well, whatever. It's the thought that counts."

He scraped up the last of his hashbrowns and stared longingly at the empty plate. "Did you get to use your tin foil and whatever?"

"Didn't need to." Darcy frowned and thought about her carefully hoarded stash. "I guess they did their job, anyway. Kept me busy, let me plan." She shoved her plate towards him, two waffles left. The works was a Thor sized plate of food, her appetite may be back, but she was a long way from an Asgardian. Or a super soldier. Bucky grabbed at it, and drowned the remaining waffles in syrup. 

"You gonna build that moon base?" He smirked up at her, licking syrup off his lips. 

Darcy laughed. "How awesome would that be?"

"Pretty good. Saw a flying car once. Well, it sort of hovered and then hit the ground pretty good. Still, though, a whole car up in the air." He took another bite and looked thoughtful. "I think it was your granddad."

"Oh, right. From the expo. Yeah, I know the one," she nodded, then smiled at him and shook her head. "Bucky Barnes, science geek. The things I never knew."

He rolled his shoulders and gave her a flat look, but after a moment, he tipped his head to one side as curiosity got the better of him. "He ever get it working?"

"Yeah. Turns out flying cars aren't very practical, though."

"Too bad," he said, sounding genuinely sad about that. 

"That's what helicopters and quinjets are for."

"I guess," he admitted, but didn't seem entirely impressed, his dreams of flying cars dashed. 

Louise came by and paused to watch Bucky polish off the last waffle. She looked at Darcy. "You not feeding him?"

Darcy rolled her eyes. "He thinks protein bars count as real food."

"They're fine," Bucky muttered, with a dark look.

"No, they actually aren't," Darcy pointed out.

Louise refilled their mugs, and shook her head. "That's no way to live, son. How about another plate of steak and eggs? I'll throw in a fruit salad."

Bucky darted a quick glance at Louise and then another at Darcy, almost like he was seeking her permission, before looking down at his plate. "Yes, ma'am."

Darcy sucked in her cheeks and watched him closely. Was that why he was always brushing off her offers of food? Did he seriously have to ask permission to eat? Or was he punished if he wanted more? Or did he just eat what he was given and wanting or asking for anything was forbidden? What? Whatever it was it pissed her right the hell off. And now she wished she'd taken more time to appreciate blowing the hell out of that base. 

Keeping her temper in check and holding her tongue, not wanting him to feel pressured, she asked a question she'd been wondering about for a week. "Did you find anything at the base?"

He glanced up at her, relief in his eyes when she didn't press on the food issue, and shook his head. "You did a good job."

"I just triggered the self-destruct," she told him with a modest shrug. "They wired the place themselves. Let's give them a big hand for their advanced self-destruction technologies."

Giving her a crooked smile, he picked up his mug and took a sip. "Couple rooms had some weird shielding. Like metal bunkers. Don't know what they were made out of, but they barely had a scratch. There wasn't anybody in them, though. Just some equipment, most of it banged around pretty good. Nothing I could salvage or pull information out of." He set down his mug and considered the base for a moment. "They've got bases all over. I wish I knew why they sent you there."

Darcy felt the small, tight burn of anxiety build in her stomach, but she pushed it away as forcefully as she could. "SHIELD's still giving them fits here and in Europe. Plus, the Avengers. I guess maybe they wanted to stick me someplace out of the way, someplace they could take their time." She made a face, creeped out and sickened by the thought. "Do you remember what it used to be?"

"Testing, I think," he said with a frown as he tried to pull the memories out of the jumble in his head. "Weapons and the like."

"Science experiment stuff?" Bruce had run every test he could think of on her, and she didn't feel experimented on, but given what had happened to Bucky, and the more recent news she'd heard concerning Hydra's mind-control process, the thought had occurred to her on her return home and she hadn't entirely been able to shake it. 

"No. Mechanical stuff. Things they'd need room for. Gear, weapons, vehicles. Things like that."

Darcy let out a long breath and nodded. "Okay."

"It went up in smoke, doll," he said, his voice reassuring. "A big hole and pile of scrap."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." She picked up her coffee and stared at the black liquid for a minute. "We don't think I'm missing much time. It's just freaked me out."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly. "Your doc check you over?"

"And over and over." She huffed out a laugh. "I think he and dad invented new tests just for me."

He smiled and sat back as Louise dropped off his new plate. She wiped her hands on her dish towel and asked, "You two need anything else?"

"No, we're good. Thanks," Darcy told her.

"Your rugalach will be ready when you leave."

Darcy gave her a smile and a nod, but Louise was already off on her way. "I hope I have that much energy when I'm 150-years old."

Bucky snorted into his eggs. "Be nice, doll."

"I am one hundred precent serious. Actually, I think she's closer to your age. You ever take Louise out on the town, Barnes?" She narrowed her eyes at him and tapped a demanding finger on the table.

"Nah." He turned his head and looked the waitress over. "Doesn't look familiar."

Darcy laughed out loud, then pressed her lips together when a couple other diners looked her way. "Too bad. You and Louise could've had badass great-grand kids."

"Guess we missed our chance," he said with a philosophical shrug, and took a bite of his steak. "Reminds me, though." He wiped his lips on his napkin and raised an eyebrow at her. "I asked you a question once you said you'd answer later."

Darcy pursed her lips in thought, running over their history. When had he asked her a question? And one she hadn't at least sort of answered? "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Wanna go dancing sometime?" 

She felt her jaw go slack and she cocked her head, staring at him. That was … not what she expected. She remembered the question. Yeah, she did. Doped up Bucky Barnes was not something she'd ever forget. But, she expected he'd never remember asking her that first time. Or, that he would chalk it up to the tranq in his system and let it go. 

She kept staring at him, waiting for the words to really process. His eyebrow lifted higher and he smirked. "Come on. It'll be fun. And, hey, I'm not talking tonight. Just, some night."

"I … uh," she really didn't know what to say. Phil hadn't covered a lot of things when he made her Bucky's handler, and her asset asking her out wasn't on the list either. But, hadn't she decided earlier she didn't really know what they were anymore? 

After a moment, he went back to his steak. "If you don't want to, it's fine."

"No," she said, her mouth moving, but her brain was still struggling to engage. "No, I … yeah, that'd be fun."

"Great," he said, and his mouth turned up into a slow grin. The first she'd ever really seen from him. Well, non-drugged him. Oh, God, stupid, handsome super assassins. Now what was she going to do? Well, go dancing with him, obviously, but then what? What was the protocol here? Damn it, Phil. Was she supposed to recruit him into SHIELD? That never really felt like the endgame. This is what she got for having a vague 'bring him home' goal, wasn't it? Phil told her to be clear. There were worse fates than dancing, she supposed, and probably a pretty decent step towards figuring out what _this_ was. And, hey, whatever else, friends went dancing, right? 

"Awesome," she agreed and smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this. I didn't feel awesome last week. But, this week is better so far. 
> 
> Also, on Thursday the Run 'Verse turns two-years old! Crazy, just crazy. Thank you all for your support and your amazing and kind words over the last two years, and all the kudos and recs and hits and bookmarks, and, just reading. Thank you.
> 
> Next chapter, we're going to jump ahead to the next adventure. *spoiler*roadtrip*spoiler*


	12. Chapter 12

Northern Minnesota wasn't ever likely to crack the top 100 on Darcy's list of summer destination vacations, though it's not like anybody would know it was summer up here. With a depressing, steady drizzle and a sharp breeze that whipped across the cracked concrete of the long-abandoned airstrip, Darcy'd seen warmer winters back home. Sure, she would admit the landscape was pretty, and, yeah, Minnesota was absolutely the land of an actual ass-ton of mostly picturesque lakes. But the thought of all the bugs that would come with that much standing water as the weather warmed, made her skin crawl. Assuming the weather actually ever warmed.

The breeze nipped at the edges of her jacket as she crossed the barren tarmac, and she had to repeatedly tuck damp strands of hair back under her cap after they were tugged free by the wind. The things she did for Phil Coulson, it was freaking ridiculous. She was hell and gone from anywhere, the surrounding forest was a dark, heavy line pushing in on the edges of the decommissioned facility, and the air of desolation was a long way from comforting. Her destination was a long, low warehouse on the far side of the strip, smothered by weeds, crumbling where it stood. 

Trudging on, shoving her hands deep in to her pockets, her skin started crawling for a different reason. Everything about this situation and this location felt like a set-up, or a post-apocalyptic horror flick. The long drive down narrow, rutted roads through dense woods broken by water and nothing else. The nearest town, barely a bump in the road, was more than an hour away. And she wasn't sure who used to run this airfield, or why they needed one way the hell out here, but they gave it up to ravenous nature years ago. Could have been one of Fury's old SSR hidey-holes, Darcy supposed. Still, she kept waiting for the zombies or bands of Mad Max-like forest rovers to burst out of the trees and try to eat her face. Or something. Okay, so she was definitely a city girl. 

Phil insisted her contact was a solid guy who just wanted to fall off the grid, but before he went, he had something he needed to turn over to SHIELD. For some reason the only place he'd do it was in the middle of the watery woods of Minnesota. And, lucky Darcy, she was one of the few agents that Phil had who could move freely, and who he could spare from the endless list of tasks that ate up the average SHIELD agent's days — too few hands, too much to do. However, Darcy suspected that this particular assignment had more to do with Phil nudging her back out into the field after her shitty two week stay at Camp Hydra. 

When she grumped about it to Clint and mentioned it was just a milk run, he gasped, literally gasped, and clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Nothing is ever just a milk run," he hissed, looking alarmed, then he groaned and rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. "God, sometimes you are such a _rookie_."

She kicked him in the shin and he cackled and went off to get ready for his own mission to wherever the hell (Dubai. Okay, so she knew what everybody was up to these days; Phil kept her looped in. And, bizarrely, so did Hill. Darcy was really going to have to get a handle on the Hill situation; she shouldn't be this weirded out in her own home). 

Darcy trusted Coulson with her life, which was the only reason she kept walking, and in truth, the only reason she actually got out of the car when she saw the place. Every step closer to her destination made her question her own reasoning. As she got nearer to the decaying building, the eerie isolation skittered down her spine and tension crept up in its place. When the door to the warehouse popped open, she missed a step and pulled one hand out of her pocket to reach for her sidearm. 

"How's the weather in Panama?" A man in his mid-fifties, thin face worn and lined, a thick scar across his jaw, tossed out the protocol question in a brusque tone. His dark eyes glittered with wariness and a dash of paranoia.

"Sunny, but you should pack an umbrella, anyway," Darcy responded and glanced around the place, his paranoia ratcheting up her own. 

"Lewis, good to see you," he waved a hand and stepped back into the gloomy structure. "Ken Holloway."

Darcy stepped through the sagging doorway after him and nodded back. "Good to meet you, too." She let out a long breath of relief when he shut the door, throwing the space into shadows and a few dim lights. As creepy as the building was, it felt too exposed outside and it took her a second to shake off the chill that had little to do with the weather. 

As her eyes adjusted, she cast a look around the space — aisles and aisles of empty metal shelves, a few rotting work tables pushed against the walls, a mouldering desk here and there, dust, piles of peeled paint, and not much else. Nothing worth really noting, anyway. 

"So, was the shady hut behind the train station already booked, or what?" She asked as she followed the grim, older agent to a glass walled office. 

"What?" Holloway glanced at her over his shoulder and frowned.

"You know," she waved a hand. "A little isolated, creepy out this way."

"If you think Hydra isn't watching everything, you're an idiot," he grumbled and stepped into the office. "Nobody's been here in two years. It's the best I could manage. Coulson trusts you, and I mostly trust him, but _I_ don't know you. I'm not exposing one of my safe houses."

Darcy held up her hands. Clearly this was a touchy subject, but she didn't care. She just wanted to get what she came for and beat it out of this damp, green horrorshow. "Sure, whatever."

He shot her a frosty, narrow-eyed look. "I guess the Director doesn't have much by way of personnel."

Unperturbed, Darcy simply raised an eyebrow. The guy looked like he'd been through the wars, it wasn't worth getting her back up about the whole hard-bitten attitude. And, honestly, he was pretty much right. "Yeah, you've hit the bottom of the barrel," she agreed with a thin smile. "Director Coulson appreciates you reaching out."

"I just want this out of my hands." Holloway pulled a locked, matte black briefcase out of a rusty storage locker and placed it carefully on the desk. "This has to go directly to Coulson. It's too dangerous to be left laying around."

Darcy stepped forward and grabbed the case's handle. "What is it?"

"None of your business," Holloway growled. "The Director has the code. I don't recommend trying to open it on your own." He gave her a grim smile. "It'll give you a _nasty_ surprise."

"Wasn't planning—" Darcy was cut off by a high-pitched alarm sounding through the office. "What is that?"

"Perimeter alarm," Hollow breathed out, his face going white and then red. "You were followed," he snarled. "Damn Coulson, sending me a fucking kid."

"The hell I was followed," Darcy shot back.

"Then you were tracked."

"Bull _shit_."

"Damn it, kid." Hollow turned on a small black and white monitor. "Six. Fuck, how did they get so close? Alarms should have tripped a hundred yards out." He ran and hand over his face and pulled out his weapon. "Take the case. They're gonna breach that door. Go out the back, run like hell. That case is —"

An explosion shook the glass walls and rattled the metal racks. Darcy picked up the case and slipped behind the desk for cover. Dropping her head back she looked up at the water-stained ceiling and took a few deep breaths, a spike of panic making her breath freeze in her throat. For a second her mind went blank and all she could think was Hydra. Hydra had found her, Hydra would take her, Hydra would throw her into a cold, lonely cell. 

Holloway grabbed her shoulder. "Are you armed?" When she tried to speak but failed, he gave her a hard shake. "Kid. Are you armed?"

"Yeah, yeah." She pulled out her sidearm and rested it on her knees, her hands trembling too badly to get a safe grip on it. 

Holloway nodded and pushed her towards the door. "I'll cover you," he told her in a low voice. "Go. Run like hell."

"Yeah, I can do that." Darcy scrambled in a low crouch to the door and waited for Holloway to take up his position. He waited for the first black-clad figure to enter, then rounded the door opening fire. Darcy darted out into the forest of shelves. 

Two more soldiers entered after the first, and the three spread out, dividing the warehouse into zones. Zones that included the two out-gunned SHIELD agents. Holloway did his best to keep them focused on him, but one of the invaders spotted Darcy and moved to intercept. Darcy broke right, ready to make her desperate run out the back, but a fourth man followed and swung wide to flank her. Darcy tucked the case close to her body, almost like a shield, and raised her own weapon. Her hand was still shaking badly enough that it was all she could do to hold the weapon up, firing it was too big an ask. Ducking behind a support beam, she struggled for a moment to get a hold of herself. Deep breath, deep breath, practice the visualization exercise Clint gave her, stand under a waterfall, let it wash away the anxiety. Oh, God, he was getting closer. 

She shuffled around the pillar, fired off one shot, but didn't get a chance to make a run for it when two of the men opened fire on her position. She dropped to the ground and her eyes darted around the room. Her options sucked. A quick glance to the door said a fifth man had entered, and Holloway was holding his ground, but it wouldn't be long before he was overwhelmed. Darcy fired off another shot, forcing number five to retreat. 

The sixth, and final man, entered the room, but his entry wasn't as smooth as his comrades'. He flew through the door with a scream, crashing against a row of shelves. Five turned to stare at Six, Four moved back to shelter behind a desk and turned his weapon to the door. One through Three hadn't noticed the commotion behind them yet. Darcy took the opportunity to change locations, darting to the next support pillar, further away from the gunfight. 

Taking stock of the situation again, she watched Five fall, clutching his throat, and Four opened fire at the door. Three finally noticed there was a problem, and broke off from Holloway, but he was dead before he was able to turn all the way around. Four broke then, panicked, and ran deeper into the building, but that took him closer to her. For a moment their eyes locked, he brought his weapon up but, time slowed and and a chill calm settled on her. Darcy fired first, 100% pure instinct. Four fell and didn't move again.

One and Two, now trapped between Holloway and the unknown threat behind them, broke their own cover, desperation driving them, they fired wildly. Holloway got Two, and One never had a chance when a large, black figure grabbed him from behind, tossing him into the wall with a nauseating smack of flesh and bone against cinderblock, putting a brutal and abrupt end to thirty seconds of chaos. Darcy pressed a hand to her racing heart and closed her eyes for a moment, fighting back the sharp tang of crashing panic. 

When she opened her eyes, she took in the next potentially horrible situation, and collected herself enough to shout, "Holloway, don't shoot!"

Bucky was crouched, pistol pointed unwaveringly at Holloway, and to his credit Holloway's aim was just as steady, despite the injury Darcy could just make out. Thick, glossy blood marred the other agent's side, and he was listing heavily to his right. She pushed out from her hiding space and jogged cautiously over to the two tense men. 

"I told you to run, Lewis," Holloway ground out as she approached. 

"And then all the bad guys died," Darcy slowed her steps, and raised her arms, case in one hand, pistol flat in the palm of her other hand, trying for non-threatening. "Don't shoot, either of you. Holloway, he's a friendly. Barnes, Phil says he's okay." 

"The hell he is," Holloway spat. "Do you know who this is?"

"Better than you do," Darcy told him, still coming closer.

"Then you are Hydra." The disgust in the other's agent voice echoed through the vast, empty space. "Well, you gonna kill me or what, Winter Soldier?"

Bucky straightened and gave her a quick look over before holstering his pistol. "He's all yours, doll."

"Whatever you think you can get from me, you won't," Holloway told them, raising his pistol to his chin. "I've got one round. I'll make it count."

"Crap, Holloway," Darcy yelped, going cold. "We're not Hydra." Panic was spiking again and she licked her suddenly dry lips. "This is Bucky Barnes. Come on Holloway, you know that name."

Holloway's eyes glittered as he looked back and forth between the pair. "Not possible," he growled and took a step back, but the pistol at his chin lowered a fraction of an inch.

"Yes, yes, it is," Darcy pressed, stepping up next to Bucky, taking the chance Holloway wasn't going to shoot at either of them. "Hydra had him, but he's out now, and he's on our side. Come on, dude, put the gun down," she pleaded, and fumbled with her own weapon as she tried to holster it. When she couldn't get her hands to steady enough she gave up and passed it to Bucky, who took it with a baffled frown. 

"I'll make you a deal," Darcy continued. "You can have the case back." She set it on the floor and slid it towards him. "I'll call the Director, tell him he has to come get it himself."

Taking a step back, Darcy held up her hands and waited, holding her breath. Holloway stared for another second before lowering his pistol and hesitantly holstering it. "Bucky Barnes?"

Bucky glanced at Darcy then looked back at the other agent and gave a small nod and shrug of his shoulders. "Yeah."

"Shit," Holloway breathed out, the tension leaving his body in a slow wave, almost like he was collapsing down on himself. "The world has gone insane." He pressed a hand to his bleeding side.

"Let me look at that," Darcy offered. 

"No. I'll live." He continued to watch Bucky. "How'd they find us?"

Bucky looked away, his eyes sliding across the warehouse, searching out threats. "They were on you for weeks," he told Holloway.

"Why didn't they try for the case before now?"

"They were hoping you'd draw the Director out." Bucky turned back to Holloway, glancing at him for only a heartbeat before looking down at the floor, his head turned towards Darcy. 

She frowned at him. "How do you know that?"

"This wasn't the only team," Bucky told her simply, but his expression was dark as he watched her out of the corner of his eye.

Holloway grunted and let out a loud, harsh breath. "Sorry, kid," he mumbled.

"Don't worry. It happens," Darcy waved it off. "I get stalked by assassins all the damned time." She shot a glare at Bucky. He raised his head and glared back.

"Yeah, we'll talk about how you came without any backup," he growled. 

Holloway made an exasperated noise and shook his head. "Get that case to Coulson," he said, sounding weary. "I've had the damned thing for ten years; I'm sick of the sight of it." He pointed a finger at Darcy. "I'm done with this shit. Tell Coulson I'm out."

"Will do," Darcy accepted easily. She couldn't blame the guy. "You sure we can't get you to a doctor or something," she said, nodding to his wound.

"Looks worse than it is. Straight to Coulson," he ordered again. "Let him bury that thing deep." And with that ominous comment, one last ugly look at the case, and a bemused nod to Bucky and Darcy, he walked back to the office and began collecting his gear.

Bucky waited until Darcy picked up the case again before exploding. "By your Goddamned self?"

"Obviously," she said in a quiet voice, the dregs of her panic leaving behind a profound exhaustion. 

"No, no, you don't get to shrug this off." His voice rose to a shout and his face was tight, pinched with anger. 

Darcy rolled her head on her shoulders and gave him a blank look. "What do you want me to say, Barnes? Coulson didn't have anybody else." 

Not waiting for his reply, she walked to the door, being very careful to not look at the bodies strewn around the place. She was not in the headspace to be casual about that, and she felt like she just might puke anyway. 

Bucky fell in at her side like a dark, surly shadow. "Yeah, I've got some things to say to the _Director_ ," he muttered viciously. 

"He didn't know Hydra was onto Holloway," she argued back.

He didn't say anything to that, but his silence felt like its own sort of condemnation. They started back across the desolate airstrip, and despite his glowering presence, she felt better having somebody by her side. Calmer, like she could breathe again. 

"What about your sniper?" He finally asked. 

"Dubai."

"And the other one?"

Darcy glanced up at him. He knew her name, there was no reason to be vague about it. Darcy wasn't stupid, and she knew there had to be a history between the pair, something more unpleasant than even the Soldier shooting Natasha once. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer, though. Bucky'd been made into a weapon, and so had Natasha. It was a connection that had occurred to her before, kept her up a few nights, in fact, but that was an ugly road she didn't think she was prepared to travel down. 

"Don't know," she answered finally.

"Steve?"

Darcy groaned and rubbed at her eyes. "If you want a status update, just ask." He made a frustrated, irritated sound low in his throat. "He's still tracking down what happened to you."

"He needs to stop."

"As ever, you're welcome to try and stop him. You want answers, he wants answers, he wants answers for you. I know you remember him well enough now, that you know what he's like when he's dug in on something."

He frowned and gave her a pleading look that said he remembered only too well. She nodded and tucked her free hand in her pocket. "And before you ask," she continued, "both my dad and Thor were out of town. So … just me. Besides, this wasn't supposed to be any big thing. Of course, it went pear-shaped. I might be cursed."

He huffed, unamused. "You should've called me."

"I thought you were off stomping on Hydra, in like Spain or something," she said. And she had very sincerely thought that. His last check in a week before had him out of the country. 

"They're not going anywhere. I coulda taken a day." He hunched his shoulders and suddenly seemed oddly vulnerable, hurt even. 

"I guess you did, anyway," Darcy pointed out. "What are you doing here?"

He worked his jaw for a moment before letting out a long breath. "Followed you from New York," he admitted. "Figured you were up to something."

"Spying on me, Barnes?" She asked with a raised eyebrow, feeling a weird mixture of gratefulness, irritation, and amusement. The better she knew him, the more he confused her. 

"No, waiting for you to do something stupid," he shot back with a thin, challenging smirk. 

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks."

"Looks like I was right."

Darcy gave him a black look. "Screw you, pal."

He ignored her look and pressed on, "You're like a prettier version of Steve."

"I don't know," she said, going for casual, but bristling inside. She'd love it if the two of them would stop comparing her to, well, the two of them. "He's plenty pretty. His eyelashes are insane."

Bucky seemed to catch the edge in her tone and his lips quirked up in a conciliatory, little smile. "Nah, I prefer brunettes, too."

The response caught Darcy off-guard and she laughed before she could stop herself. "Charmer." Shaking her head, and raising a hand to push her breeze tossed hair back, she tried to let go of her irritation and the terrified defensiveness that lingered from the recent battle. "So, what were you doing back in New York?"

"Well, you do owe me a date."

Her brain did a weird short-circuit thing whenever she thought about the dance date she'd agreed to. At no point in her handling of Bucky, did it ever occur to her that he would make some sort of _move_. Of course, the first few times they met, she was pretty sure she was barely a step up from 'prey' in his head. When that changed, she couldn't even begin to say. Maybe when she picked shrapnel out of his back. He'd been a little … well, grumpy, but that was less the Soldier and more his back hurt, and the rest of that night, if he'd been not exactly good humored or relaxed, there'd been none of his battle-ready tension. Of course, then he started beating himself up, but it was the first time she felt she'd really made headway with him. Still … it's a leap from that to asking her out. 

"'Owe'? I don't know about 'owe'," she said, being deliberately vague while trying to get her brain to work again. 

He chuckled and nudged her shoulder with his arm. "Remember that time I saved you from the mugger?"

"I had him," she responded with a petulant grumble. 

Bucky growled at her interruption. "Remember how we were never going to tell your pops about that? And I said it would cost you?"

"That's the date?"

"You did say you'd go dancing," he said, his face falling into a slight pout. 

"Oh my god," Darcy groaned and thumped him on the arm. He had the most mournful pouting face she'd ever seen, and she'd known a few champion pouters in her day. "Don't do that. Yes, I said I'll go dancing. Geez."

"Well, so, that's what I was doing."

"Really?"

He held out one hand and with a small lift of his shoulder admitted, "And I could use your help on something."

Smirking, she nodded slowly. "Ah, there we go."

He narrowed his eyes and dropped his chin in her direction. "But it was mostly the date."

And there went her brain again. "Rain check, I guess?" Then she looked up at the sky and squinted at the raindrops in her face. "Literally."

With a small laugh, he nodded. "Yeah."

"So what's the job?" She asked, glad for the chance to change the subject so her recently overworked, overwhelmed brain could catch a few seconds break. This day was just … really kind of suck. Not the worst day ever, but just not great at all. 

"Hydra's banker. One of them anyway. Guy called Bader. He sticks his head up every now and then, but he'll spot me a mile off."

Darcy thought about it. "Does he have a high opinion of brunettes, too?"

"He's not choosey. He likes stunners. You fit the bill."

Okay, if he was going to keep saying things like that, she just didn't know what she was going to do. It was hard to know how serious he was being, and while there was a part of Darcy that was definitely flattered — he was a good-looking guy, who was surprisingly sweet in his weird assassiny way, and the more he found himself again, the more she liked him. She could even admit that she even found herself drawn to the dark intensity of the Soldier, which maybe she should have worried about, but, she couldn't deny it — but there was a part of her that was hesitant. He'd been through hell, and she was the first person to be nice to him, the first person he could connect with, and how much of his attachment had to do with that? Enough, probably, that his flirting made her sad more than it made her giddy. 

"You're good for my self-esteem, Barnes," she told him with a small, forced smile. They made it to the car and she stopped next to the driver's door, flexing her cold, wet hand against the briefcase handle. "So you want me to get close to him?"

"Not too close." His face darkened at the thought. "But if we could get account information …"

"Very Bond," she said with approval. "I'm in."

"It'll be dangerous," he warned, watching her face closely. 

"I don't think you'll be too far away."

"Damned right I won't be," he said, and she felt her breath stutter at the ferocity of his gaze. That was a promise from the Soldier. She was so good at reminding herself and everybody else that he was Bucky Barnes, that the Winter Soldier still took her by surprise when he popped up. 

"Okay." She glanced away and then hefted the case. "But first, I've got to get rid of this."

"Yeah, and I've got some words for Coulson," he said once more, in a low, black tone. 

Darcy ignored that and pulled open the door, tossing the briefcase in the back before climbing behind the steering wheel. Bucky pulled open the other door and slid in. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was more slender than Steve, but he seemed to take up more room. Something of the blackness around him expanded to fill every space he was in. He managed to loom menacingly while just sitting. And, yes, damn it, she found that stupidly attractive. Sweet baby Thor, what was she going to do?

"Did you drive here?" She asked, trying to take her mind off the mystery of what was going on in Bucky's head, and the mystery of how she was going to untangle her own.

"Yeah."

"Where's the car?"

"Ditched it a few miles back," he said with an unconcerned lift of his shoulders.

Darcy groaned and started the engine. "Did you steal a car?"

Bucky made a noise that sounded half-exasperated, half-amused. "From Hydra, doll. Nobody's missing it. Don't get all uptight."

"Hey, I was just asking."

"Don't worry. You don't have to pay anybody back," he said with a knowing smirk.

She winced and gave him a chagrined side-eye. "You saw that?"

"Agent May told me."

Bucky the not chatty, chatting with May the not chatty. That had to have been the most brief and awkward conversation ever. "When did you talk to May?"

"You were off talking to Coulson, after the doc finished with me, but before she let me go. Kept shoving cookies at me," he shook his head, nonplussed by Simmons' bedside manner. 

"You two just had a little chat?"

"She did. I think she was afraid I was leading you astray." Bucky tapped his fingers on the door handle in an impatient rhythm. "We going or what?"

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled and pulled the car out of the weed-choked lot. "Do you have any clothes that don't scream 'terrifying engine of destruction'?" She asked, waving a hand at the battle kit he favored, while she maneuvered them slowly onto the barely graded dirt road. 

"Not with me."

"Fine. We'll stop somewhere."

"You don't have to."

"I don't want some cop pulling us over because he thinks I've been carjacked by the biker from hell," she explained, jerking a thumb at him. "Besides, there's plenty of things I don't have to do and I do them anyway," she told him with an annoyed flip of her wrist. 

"Like walk into Hydra traps?" He asked in a mild tone that had a very noticable bite to it. 

"Okay, look, thank you for the save," she said with a bit of bite herself. "I owe you one—"

"Nah," he cut her off with a weary sigh. "I guess this squares us for Estonia. Just, hey, just call me next time, yeah?"

"I will," she agreed softly. She really should have. But, this wasn't supposed to be a thing. Lesson learned, she supposed. 

"Promise, huh?" He prodded. 

She risked a glance away from the dodgy road to give him a sincere smile. "I promise."

"Kay." He sat back and relaxed as much as she'd ever seen him relax. "I'm still talking to Coulson."

"If it makes you feel better," she told him, resigned to his determination and really not caring that much. Phil was more than capable of taking care of himself.

"It does," he said.

Darcy fixed her eyes on the rutted, muddy road and tried not to think of the man beside her. She tried to focus instead on getting them down the dicey road alive and, beyond that, thinking through the long drive back to the Playground. Not having the first clue what was in the briefcase, she didn't trust it on an airplane. But that just circled her thoughts back to Bucky, because it was a _long_ drive, and he looked determined to stick with her. Somehow she didn't think this was going to be the fun sort of road trip.


	13. Chapter 13

"So, how far are we going?"

Darcy rolled her head on her shoulders and didn't look over at him. "Far."

Bucky was silent for a moment, before he asked in a voice laced with a deceptive calm, "How _far_?"

"Like really far," she said on a burst of weary breath. "Two thousand miles far. It'll be a couple, maybe three days." She kept her eyes on the muddy road, but scowled at the black, heavy forest around them. "Assuming the trees don't eat us first."

She was tired. It was only mid-morning, but it had been a really, really full day, and her little panic attack in the warehouse left her drained and edgy. 

"You were going to drive two thousand miles by yourself, with _that_ in the back seat?" Bucky said, spitting out each word like a bullet. 

Darcy's nostrils flared and she shot him a glare. He set his jaw and stared out the window, the only sound in the car was the patter of the rain, the clunk and squeak of the wipers, and his fingers drumming on the door handle. 

After about a half a mile, he spoke up again. "There was a lady back during the war, Brit. Steve was bonkers for her. I don't remember her name."

"Peggy Carter?"

He nodded and tapped at the door some more. "That's the one. Hell of a dame. Didn't give me the time of day." He smirked and continued to stare out the windshield. 

Darcy wasn't sure what the change of subject had to do with anything, but maybe he was simply remembering. She played along. "I met her once when I was a kid."

"Okay, so when I say this, you know I understand that gals can do things. But, damn it, Darcy! By your Goddamned self?" He shifted irritably in his seat, the belt groaning and creaking. "I wouldn't even let Steve do something like this by himself."

Darcy watched him out of the corner of her eye, saw the frustrated consternation in his face, the stubborn outthrust jaw, the pursed lips. And she laughed. She didn't know why, but something about the outburst was almost endearing. Maybe it was how careful he was to set it up, trying not to get her back up. God, she was in so much trouble with him. 

"You think that's funny?" He said, his voice heating up. 

"No, no," she assured him, stifling the laughter. "I just …" Taking a deep breath, she slowed the car and turned to face him for a second. "You're right. I shouldn't have. Phil told me I should think of taking somebody. I asked Clint, but he was heading out. I figured I could handle it." She let out a long sigh and turned back to the road. "I think I was just so glad to get out of the Tower."

"You were pushing yourself."

"I guess I was," she admitted with a worn shrug. Look how well that turned out. She liked being the Avengers' handler — the biggest stresses in her day were exasperation, wondering where everybody was, and Fury yelling at her about something. Nobody shot at her. Then Hydra had to go and screw up the whole damned world, and she had to step up. And that meant the field. She still wasn't sure she was cut out for this, but there were too many people she didn't want to let down, and she was stubborn enough and contrary enough that she'd be damned if she let Hydra beat her. So, yes, she pushed herself too hard to get back out. 

He nodded and settled back. "Call me next time."

"I already promised I would."

"Yeah, I'm just saying."

They drove on in silence for several more minutes, before Bucky spoke again. "How'd things go with your family?"

Darcy's hands tightened on the steering wheel and she pressed her lips together in a thin line. "Okay."

"Just okay?"

"No," she said in a quiet voice. It really hadn't been okay. It was too emotionally fraught. Too much. 

She loved her family, but it was hard seeing them so scared. Hard seeing her mother cry, hard seeing the distress on her dad's face, and she'd fought with Sam. Her grandparents were almost an oasis of calm, but every now and then she saw tears in grandma Carol's eyes, but grandpa Jim just patted her on the shoulder and said he understood, that he was proud of her — then he told her some stuff about his time in the navy, about Viet Nam, things she'd never heard before and things she wasn't entirely sure he'd ever even told his son. In return, she told him details of her captivity she'd only told Clint. It helped to know somebody in the family got it. And then there was Rico, a quiet, but steady presence; he listened, they talked about normal things, and just chilled. That part wasn't so bad. He'd even sort of gotten over his terror of Tony. 

Bucky made a sound, a small uncomfortable cough, "When I got called up, my ma cried for two days straight. Hated seeing her cry. Tore me up," he offered. "I knew a guy, his parents were so sure he wasn't coming home, they sold his stuff and rented out his room."

Darcy gave him a disbelieving look. "Harsh."

"Yeah." Bucky stared out the window for a minute, a thoughtful look on his face. "Don't know if he did make it home."

Not knowing what to say to that, she kept her focus on the road. Bucky hadn't made it home. She wondered how long his mother cried. 

"It's war, doll," he said in a low voice. "Maybe not like that war, places change, faces change, but it's still war. You've got a better chance of making it home with somebody at your back. And it's worth fighting to come home when you've got family there."

"Yeah," she agreed on a soft breath. 

"Steve was gung-ho," Bucky continued, his voice changing, turning almost absent, distant, as he reconnected with old, fractured memories. "He wanted to make a difference. I tried to tell him he was better off, but he didn't want to hear it. So, I take my eyes off him for a minute, and the idiot goes off and gets himself experimented on," he grumbled, his voice heating. "Then he goes and makes a run at a Hydra base by his Goddamned self. Damned idiot."

Darcy smothered another laugh. _'By your Goddamned self?'_ seemed to be Bucky's phrase of choice, or maybe necessity. Poor guy. Though, she did kind of feel better that she wasn't the only one who got it. 

"To save you," she pointed out.

"So what?" He huffed, glanced over at her and, done sharing his own memories, asked again, "So, how'd it go with your family?"

She let out a breath through her nose. "Exhausting. I guess it wasn't horrible, just hard. Mom cried a lot. Even dad cried; I've never seen him cry before. My brother and I fought — he hates that I'm in SHIELD, though I wasn't even doing SHIELD work; I was just driving up to a Stark plant in upstate for Pepper. I mean, okay, they grabbed me because I'm a SHIELD agent, but whatever. Grandpa Jim took me and Rico out to Sheepshead Bay one day, though. That was nice. He wanted to show me where he grew up."

"Your gramps is from Brooklyn?" Bucky's eyes lit with interest. 

"Yeah, he and grandma Carol moved to California when he joined the navy."

"Did you like it there?"

Darcy frowned a little at the question, he sounded eager, like he was hungry for news of the place. Had he really been within miles of home and refused to go? Well, she knew what it was like the first time Steve went back, so it was probably as bad or worse for Bucky. 

"It wasn't bad, I liked the bay right there," she told him. "Grandpa was a little sad the house he grew up in was gone, but he says the neighborhood was in better shape than the last time he was out there. Except parking, which he says is as bad as it ever was. And he said that a lot." She laughed, a soft chuckle. "He'd point out landmarks and then spend five minutes telling us where the best places to park were. Grandpa's a car guy. I think that's most of why they stayed in California; more room for his cars."

He took that in and was quiet for a moment. "You like living in New York?"

"Sure. I mean, I'm used to things being more spread out, everybody living on top of everybody else kind of weirds me out, but it's not bad. I like that there are restaurants that actually stay open later than nine," she said with a wry twist to her lips. 24-hour Thai takeout was a Godsend in the lab.

He nodded slowly but didn't follow up with another question. 

"What about you?" Darcy asked after a moment. "Are you going to live in Brooklyn again?"

That question seemed to make him uncomfortable, and he turned his head to look out the passenger window. "Dunno."

She shot him a quick, searching look. "That reminds me, and I've never asked, kind of because I didn't want to know, because then I'd have to do something drastic, but are you still squatting in that shithole in Hell's Kitchen? Tell me you aren't."

He shrugged but didn't say anything.

"Bucky," she said, drawing his name out on a long groan.

"Not everybody gets to live in a great, big palace in the sky," he shot back, turning prickly and defensive. 

Darcy ignored his dig. "It's not the size of the apartment. I've seen boxes down by the river that were nicer. That was, seriously, the second most depressing place I've ever been," she told him, raising her eyebrow and glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "And since the most depressing place I've ever been was a Hydra cell, come _on_."

"I just need four walls and a place to sleep," he said with a stubborn frown. "It's fine."

"It's not fine," she argued back. "I get depressed just thinking about it, and I've only been there once."

"Remind me to not invite you back," he grumbled under his breath and Darcy groaned again. "What? You gonna put me up in that tower of yours? Love to see how your pops would take that."

Darcy puffed out her cheeks and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. "You know what? You are a grown ass man," she said at last. "You want to live there, whatever. That is your choice. It is a shitty choice, but, hey, it's yours."

"Great, thanks," he grunted.

"And," she continued, "I am a grown ass woman who's been to Home Depot a time or two."

"What the hell's that mean?"

Darcy waved an airy hand, tipped her chin up, and said in her most irritatingly condescending tone, "Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about."

Bucky glared at her for another half a mile, before snorting, amused, and turning back to the window. "You think I'm pretty?"

"No."

A small smile played at the edges of his lips and he nodded, "Sure."

"I'm driving here, Barnes." She jabbed a finger at the windshield. "Do you see this road? Do you see its ridiculousness? Let me concentrate."

"You bet, doll."

Darcy did manage to navigate them out of the woods, an irritatingly winding path that took them around lakes and dense forest, and past a half-dozen resorts that looked nice enough, but there was no amount of money that would ever persuade Darcy to willingly stay at any of them. When she expressed that thought to Bucky, he implied she was a snob, and since she already had money up to her eyeballs, that was hardly a good way to persuade her to do anything. They didn't speak for another hour. 

It was mid-afternoon before they made it to Fargo. Darcy'd offered to alter their route and drive down to Minneapolis for their shopping trip, but Bucky was not tempted by her description of the Mall of America. Sure, the thought of the Winter Soldier skulking through the mall was oh, such a bad idea, but so hilarious. He refused. A lot. So, she made do with Fargo and, after he'd pulled faces at a couple of stores, she finally found an army-navy surplus store he only shrugged at. 

Leaving him in the car, she made a quick run in, grabbing up a couple pairs of cargo pants, some long-sleeved t-shirts, and a pea coat to replace his brown leather jacket thing. The missing sleeve was hella conspicuous. 

The clerk raised a curious eyebrow at her selections and that damned midwestern friendly chattiness compelled her to ask, "Shopping for your dad?"

"Boyfriend," Darcy answered, calling up her brightest, most guileless smile. "Made a surprise visit, but didn't bring anything for the weather. Just because it's 90 in California doesn't mean it's 90 everywhere."

The clerk sighed in sympathy and rang up the purchase. "My son's the same way. He always forgets his coat when he comes home."

Darcy handed over some cash. "Then tries to tough it out while he's turning blue?"

"Exactly." The woman smiled and folded the clothes into a bag and handed it over. "You have a nice day, hon."

"You, too," she chirped back and escaped the store before the chattiness got too chatty. 

Back at the car, she waved Bucky out and pulled the pea coat from the bag. "At least ditch that jacket. Your arm is kinda shiny."

He rolled his eyes but started unbuttoning the jacket. 

Eyeing him as he worked at the jacket, she glared at her old nemesis. She kind of hated that jacket a lot, and wondered if she could 'accidentally' toss it out the window. "Okay, seriously, what is the deal with all the buttons?"

He ignored her and snatched the new coat from her, pulling it on over his left arm first. "How'd you know my size?"

"I sized you up," she exclaimed with a grin, the long day starting to make her punchy. He stared back and she sighed. "Fine, you fall somewhere between Clint and Steve. It wasn't hard."

"How do you know their sizes?"

"I'm the Avengers' babysitter. Who do you think puts them in their little footy pjs and tucks them in for their naps?" He snorted and gave her a slightly despairing look. She threw up one hand and ducked around him to toss the bag into the back seat next to the case of doom. "I know everybody's sizes. Do you know how many clothes they run through? Especially Bruce. He's hell on his wardrobe. And I'm not just talking Hulk damage, but like chemical stains, tea stains, mustard. Jane's the same. I know her size, too. Anyway, it's my duty to make sure they're not running around naked."

Bucky was staring at her again and she raised an eyebrow and jerked her chin at him. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Jealous?"

"No," he scoffed and got back in the car. 

"Liar."

"I am not."

She slid in behind the steering wheel and grinned. "Do you want footy pjs, Barnes?"

He huffed, annoyed. It was a long day for everybody. "How far until we stop? You want me to drive?"

"No, and I don't know." She turned on the GPS and brought up the route she'd mapped before she'd even left for Minnesota. "Bismarck, I guess. Three hours."

"You good to drive?" He pressed.

"I'm fine."

"Three hours, though."

"You are a city boy, and okay, I'm a city girl," she admitted, "but I'm a _western_ city girl. Three hours is nothing." She pulled the car out of the lot and started down the street. "You want to go to Mount Rushmore tomorrow?"

"No."

"You sure? It's on the way to Coulson's. And it is a national treasure. Much like your bestie." She raised an eyebrow at him and laughed at her own joke.

Looking unimpressed, he said, "I think you're too tired to drive."

"Oh whatever. Fine, be no fun, Bucky. See if I care." She tapped the GPS screen and pointed. "But look, it really is sort of on the way. We can go south and hit Rapid City."

Bucky leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "Do you know what's in that case?"

"No."

"Then no."

"Devil's Tower?" She asked hopefully.

"Is it on the way?"

"Yeah. Ish."

"Still no."

She pouted and turned onto the main street out of town. "You are the worst road trip buddy ever."

"Get rid of that case, and I'll go with you wherever you want."

It wasn't clear to her if he meant that comment as suggestively as it sounded, but her mouth went dry anyway, and she scowled. Her brain was still not prepared to deal with flirty Bucky. She didn't know when or if it would ever be, but every time he did it, it got harder and harder to think. She liked flirty Barnes far, far too much. 

"I don't think you should hit on me while we're on a mission. That's like a protocol breach, or something."

"Protocol? You're the one who wants to go sight-seeing. You've got a case Hydra wants in the backseat, and hell, you don't even know what's in it, and you want to go to Mount Rushmore," he exclaimed, pointing over his shoulder at the case, his face a strange mix of resigned amusement and exasperation. "You're something else, doll."

"Just trying to make this fun," she muttered and tried to find the right turn to get back on the highway. Sure, sight-seeing was probably not the smart thing to consider in this situation, but she felt like she needed the distraction from days in the car with the man next to her. Though, she supposed, drawing out this little trip wouldn't help, and she really, desperately needed to talk to Phil. He could probably help her get her head straight. It wasn't too hard to guess what he might say — bad idea, horrible idea, what are you thinking — but she needed to actually hear the words. 

Speaking of excellent distractions. "Hey, it's a Starbucks. You want a latte or something?"

"No."

"Well, I do."

"Find a real coffee shop, then," he groused and glared at the green sign in front of them.

"You don't ever get to call me a snob again." Ignoring his protest, she pulled into the Starbucks. "I'll get you a regular old cup of joe. Black? Cream? Sugar? What's your poison."

"Black's fine," he said, giving in with notable reluctance, a small pout pulling at his lips. 

When she returned, he accepted his coffee with a mumbled thanks, and they hit the road again. Halfway to Bismarck they got into a small argument over where to stop for the night, or if they even should. Bucky offered to drive again, but Darcy didn't want to risk them being pulled over with him being unlicensed, and, with that whole thing were he was kind of a wanted terrorist. The odds of being pulled over might be slim, but she didn't want to push their luck. 

"Everybody's going to ask for ID," Darcy told him with a huff. He'd been insisting they stay as far off the grid as possible, and even went so far as to mess with the GPS and change her carefully planned route to the Playground from the most direct way, to a zig-zag path across a series of smaller state highways and roads. It was going to add at least half a day to their journey. "I don't have a fake license."

"What about your passport?" He asked with a huff. 

"Not with me, geez. I wasn't leaving the country."

He groaned and covered his eyes with one hand. "You are really bad at this."

"You wanna get out and walk?" She shot back. "This is my op, we'll run it as badly as I want."

"You need more fake papers."

"When we get to the Playground, I will put in a requisition."

"Great. Lot of good that does us out here," he waved a hand at the miles and miles of nothing around them. 

"Yeah? Where's your fake license, Sgt. Barnes?" She shot him a dark look, which he returned. "Look, find an off the path, no-tell motel, then. They'll still want ID, but it'll take longer for somebody to track a cash payment there than at some chain."

"Fine. If I see something, I'll call it out."

"Oh my God, you have a phone," she exclaimed and thumped the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. "You have a state of the art fricking computer in your pocket. Google maps. Don't tell me I have to show you how to google."

"Google," he grumbled, shifting in his seat to pull the phone out of his pocket. "Why's everybody got to talk like they're five today?"

"Simmer down, grandpa," Darcy laughed and he glowered. 

For the next fifteen minutes, Bucky muttered under his breath and tapped at his phone. "Fine, here." He handed the device to her, and sat back with a petulant grunt. 

She glanced down at the phone, glanced over at him, then shook her head and tossed it back over to him. "The Lazy Sleep Inn? Really?"

"They've got separate cabins," he said, shaking the phone at her. 

"You're saying you need some space?" She smirked. "It's kinda early in the relationship for that."

"Funny gal. I'm not letting you out of my sight, but a separate cabin means it's hard for neighbors to snoop, and easier to spot them if they try."

Oh God, days in a car with him, and now he was going to insist on one room? Phil, Phil, look what you did. _Be his handler, be his friend, you can do it._ "Paranoid. Okay, fine. Give me back your phone."

"Why?"

"Because it has the number on it, and so I can call and see if they actually have a room. Unless you want to."

He made a face and handed the phone back over. 

The inn's owner was a friendly man named Gary. With the oil boom, he said, everything for miles around Bismarck would be booked solid, but he always liked to try and hold a room back for late comers. She'd called just in time. He also promised her that they were next door to the best steakhouse in North Dakota, which just happened to be owned by his sister, who would give them a discount on appetizers. Darcy didn't care so much about the steak, but she was hoping they had a good alcohol selection; she was convinced that was the only way she was going to get through the night. 

When they reached the motel early in the evening, Bucky got out to scout around, and she let him go without a word; it would make him feel better and maybe he'd stop complaining about her horrible op planning. 

In the office, Gary greeted her like an old friend, and got her checked in without much of a fuss. Once he learned she was traveling with her 'boyfriend', he apologized that the room came with a pair of twin beds, but Darcy assured him she was simply glad he had a room at all, all the while her brain was crying out in profound relief. This was going to be tense and awkward enough anyway, without the horrible rom-com, 'we've only got one bed' situation. Though, honestly, she would have had no problem making Bucky sleep on the floor.

Their cabin was at the end of the row, which would make Bucky happy, too; nothing on the other side but a fence and then an open field. Great for spotting lurking Hydra agents, she was sure. The room itself was small and a little outdated, but as Gary promised, meticulously clean and comfortable. Darcy tossed the bag of clothes for Bucky on one bed, and the briefcase and her own bags on the other, then took a swing by the bathroom while she waited for the assassin to turn up. 

When she finished and had splashed some water on her face and tried to clean herself up enough that she didn't look quite so much like the living dead, she exited the room to find Bucky poking through the bag of clothes. 

"Hey, you hungry?" She asked, pulling her hair back into a pony tail and dropping down onto the end of her bed. "I'm starving, so I actually don't care if you're hungry or not. I mean, well, yeah okay, I care, but in the general way, and not in the what's your status right this moment way, because I am going to go eat a cow with or without you."

Bucky paused in his perusal, a pair of pants dangling from his hand, and stared at her. "Uh … yeah, I could eat."

"Great. Change out of your battlin' Hydra gear, and we'll walk over to the restaurant." She waved a hand at the bathroom and collapsed back on the bed. After she ate a cow, she was going to sleep until she couldn't sleep anymore. Or, until her alarm went off at six, or Bucky woke her up whenever super assassins woke up. Just judging by Steve, she supposed she'd be lucky to sleep in past dawn. 

"Thanks for this." Darcy rolled her head towards Bucky and he shook a gray shirt at her.

"Yeah, no problem."

When he stripped off his shirt right there, she rolled her head back and glared up at the ceiling. Okay, now he wasn't playing fair. 

"Did you say anything to the manager?"

"About what?" She asked, resolutely not looking at him. 

"Whatever."

"I know you're doubting my spy skills here, but I can lie pretty effectively. In fact, that's totally why I was recruited in the first place. Plus, what the hell does Gary care?"

"People talk."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, all two hundred and fifty people in this town." 

"One is all it takes," he grumbled, and she heard the rustle of the bag again, then the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, and a second heavy thing a moment later. His boots, she assumed. Or he was shedding weaponry. 

"If you take off your pants in this room, we are going to have a problem, Barnes," Darcy hissed. 

He laughed, a short, clipped chuckle. "Relax. I've got more manners than that."

She felt him brush by her knees on the way to the bathroom. "So, what did you tell him?" He called out.

Didn't even shut the door. Some manners, not a lot. She was tempted to have a chat with Steve about his bestie's dirty tricks. "I told him I was passing through on the way home, and that I wanted to see the country, so we were taking the scenic route. We both agreed that ours is a beautiful and majestic land." She raised a hand to rub at her forehead. "Also, for the purposes of this stop, you are my boyfriend. Don't let it go to your head."

He left the bathroom dressed in his new clothes. She sat up and gave him a quick once over. The pants seemed to fit well, but the shirt was a little tight, or maybe Darcy's brain had unconsciously tried to sabotage her calm, too. He'd pulled his hair back into a short pony tail of his own, and looked too damned good. 

Stopping at the edge of her bed he smiled down at her. "I'll be the best boyfriend you've ever had, sweetheart." And then he did a thing with his eyebrow and bit his bottom lip, a teasing, flirtatious expression. What the hell was that? That was worse than pouting. Darcy didn't know what it was but, he should never do it again. No, wait, it was fucking kryptonite, is what that was. 

She looked away from him and his stupid handsome kryptonite face, and reached for the case; leaving it in the room was not an option. She'd shove it into her messenger bag and hope that didn't look too stupid. "That's not a high bar, Barnes."

He watched her struggle with the case for a moment, then took the bag from her once she'd forced the clasps to lock. "Why is that?"

"What?"

"I've wondered. You're sharp as a tack, gorgeous, fun—"

"Stop."

"No." He cocked his head and held a hand out to help her up, but she bypassed it and stood on her own. "Woulda figured you'd be snapped up by now."

"Maybe I didn't want to be _snapped up_ ," she bit out irritably. This was not a comfortable subject. 

He shrugged easily and followed her to the door, slinging the bag over his shoulder. "Sure. But, why isn't it a high bar? Is there someone out there I oughta put the fear of God into?"

She gave him a hard side-eye as she locked up the room. "You think I can't do that myself?"

He snorted, amused and shook his head. "I saw you blow that Hydra base, I figure you can take care of yourself. Still…"

Letting out a long sigh, Darcy started out across the parking lot. She wasn't sure this was a conversation she really wanted to have with him. Inner Phil told her to give a little of herself, but Inner Phil could shut the hell up, since she'd, obviously, succeeded in forming that connection with him. Now she didn't know what to do with it. Fat lot of good Inner Phil was. 

"You don't have to tell me," he said in a low, gentle voice. 

"It's not a secret, it's just … I haven't had much luck," she shrugged off the issue. Not much luck was an understatement. Every relationship she'd had went down in flames in fairly short order. She stopped trying for 'serious' about halfway through college. 

"Guys are idiots," he commented mildly, giving her a friendly nudge with his arm. 

Darcy couldn't help but laugh a little at that. "While I'd love to blame guys for it all, it wasn't entirely them." She chewed on her lower lip and focused on walking for a minute. "Though, the first semi-serious boyfriend I had in high school cheated on me. That was all on him being a douche."

"What was his name?" Bucky asked, his tone going hard and dark.

"I'm not telling you that," she laughed and nudged his arm back. "He was a dumb seventeen year old boy. I got him back anyway. Plus, Tony threatened to use the whole SI arsenal on him. So, you're a day late and a dollar short, pal."

"I don't mind being late to the party."

"Oh stop," she chided, but couldn't stop her smile from growing. 

"And the others?"

"Look, it's like this," she said, stopping at the edge of the lot, watching cars pull in and out of the bar and grill's lot across the road. Maybe it would be good to get this off of her chest to _somebody_. And why not Bucky? Bucky who had allowed her to see so much of him, damaged and broken and all. 

"I spent my whole life keeping a really big secret. It was hard to know who to trust with it, so I didn't trust anybody with it. Not for a long, long time." She crossed her arms, and breathed in the cool, damp air. The rain stopped just outside of Fargo, but the air was heavy with moisture and the chill of a promised storm. "You think, hey, I'll meet somebody who'll be worth it, but you don't really know if they're really worth it until you tell them, and you've got to wait to get to know them well enough to where you just might finally say it. Total Catch 22. And, the problem is, they know you're keeping something back, right? I'm pretty good at dodging the issue, but when you keep saying you're gonna go see your dad for the weekend, or something, and you won't tell them where, or after the sixth time you blow off letting them meet him, they start getting suspicious, or even just start feeling like you don't trust them. It's hell on relationships. So, things usually kind of blew up before they ever got to the point where I thought maybe there was somebody I could tell."

"If they couldn't trust you, then they weren't worth it," he told her. 

"I don't know."

"I do."

"Well … thanks." She tossed him a little smile and waved at the street. "Shall we?"

"Yeah. Let's get you your cow."

"Awesome," she agreed and crossed the road with him. "The last sort of boyfriend I had was actually my intern in London. He was cute. But, he also said I was intimidating," she mused, feeling a little freer for telling him. 

Jane commented on her lack of relationships from time to time, but Darcy never really went into details behind the why. Of course, for a long time she didn't tell Jane her secret, either. Not until the moment it became unavoidable. Bless Jane for taking it in stride. As stressful as it was to come out with it to her, Jane's reaction and lack of judgement went a long way towards making Darcy feel more comfortable telling other people. It didn't feel so scary. Rico'd known for years, but he'd figured it out, and he was her best friend, so while that had been a relief, he was practically family already. Jane had been a much bigger emotional hurdle. 

"Fat-head. You want me to knock him off?"

"No, I don't want you to _knock him off_." She glanced at Bucky, and rolled her eyes at the smirk teasing the corners of his mouth. "Idiot."

"Well, I like a gal with moxie," he announced firmly. "You've got that in spades."

"Alright, alright, you don't have to keep buffing my ego."

"Only telling it like it is, doll." He grinned at her and held open the door to the restaurant. "Just being the best boyfriend you've ever had."

"Like I said, not tough."

"Nah, I'll set the bar a lot higher." He followed her into the din of the packed restaurant, smiling the whole way. He was so entertained at playing the role of doting boyfriend, he was largely unperturbed by the crowd of strangers. Though, she was sure he didn't miss anything in the room, or miss making a threat assessment of everybody. 

"Big words, Barnes," she muttered, shaking her head.

"Just watch me, doll." He waved over a waitress and asked for a table. Voluntarily talking to somebody else. Oh boy, he was serious. Darcy groaned quietly and followed him following the waitress. She really, really needed to talk to Phil. Or _somebody_. Anybody, honestly. Hell, she'd even talk to May. May who would probably just stand there and stare at her and then tell her she was an idiot. She knew it, she just needed to hear the words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True story: My grandfather's mother was so certain he wasn't going to come home from the war, she sold all his things and rented out his room. 
> 
> Also, happy Avengers day! I'll get to finally see it in three hours. Three long, long hours.


	14. Chapter 14

"And then, like, she peels the skin off."

"Don't."

"It's like watching a vivisection. Probably a good thing she's a vegetarian." 

Bucky pressed his lips together and stared out the window. 

"It's just not right," Darcy shook her head and took a big bite of her donut. 

After Bismarck, they spent two long days winding their way across the country, stopping only when they had to, and spending the night at whatever little dive motel they could find. Each night Darcy went to sleep to the sight of the Winter Soldier standing by the window, each morning he woke her before dawn. If he slept at all, it couldn't have been more than a couple hours a night. Sometimes Bucky would let himself drowse in the car, but Darcy didn't really count that as real sleep. He was a little more quiet and grumpy, but she wasn't sure that was entirely due to lack of sleep; he was getting edgier and edgier about the case the longer they had it. And, truthfully, she'd be glad to get rid of it, too. 

They were only a few hours out from the Playground when she spotted the Krispy Kreme. Bucky wasn't impressed, but she got a few dozen anyway, figuring she might be able to badger him into eating one or two, and the rest she'd give to the team at the base. It was one of those things she got from her mom — guests should bring a gift, right? Not that she was a guest so much, but she'd spent a couple weeks at the Playground and she knew how crap the food could be. And, anyway, who didn't love donuts? Bucky, apparently, who only picked at a glazed while she told him all about Jane's eating habits in a desperate attempt to fill the silence created by the growing tension. Thinking about it, that probably wasn't the most appetizing subject. 

Shoving the last of the donut in her mouth, she chewed and stole a quick glance at Bucky. His gaze was still fixed out the window. After brushing her sticky fingers on the napkin in her lap, she focused on the last leg of their journey. "Are you okay going to the Playground?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure? I can drop you just short of it, if you want. There's a smallish city not too far."

"No."

He'd been monosyllabic for most of the day. Darcy sighed and kept driving. She was starting to miss flirty Bucky. No, no, wait that wasn't right. How quickly her brain forgot how little it was prepared to deal with that. Flirty Bucky'd made appearances throughout most of their trip — little teasing comments and jokes. At one point, somewhere in the middle of Wyoming the day before, he'd spent an hour looking up 40s dance clubs in New York. He was silent today, however. Maybe he was just tapped out on sociability. Or he was mentally bolstering himself for a SHIELD base full of people he didn't know. Or both. 

Darcy left him to his brooding and drove on. 

They pulled into the yard of the old warehouse complex hiding the Playground in the late afternoon. Darcy tugged the briefcase out of the backseat, waved at Bucky to get the boxes of donuts, and they went into the musty, old front office to wait.

"You don't have a keycard," she explained to Bucky as she leaned back against a desk and stifled a yawn. It hadn't been the best road trip, but it hadn't been the worst either. But, her ass was well past numb and she was tired of driving. Amazing how that could be so exhausting. "We'll have to wait for somebody to come get us."

He let out a long breath through his nose, dropped the boxes on the desk behind her, and propped himself against a wall.

"Don't be grumpy," she chastised mildly. "You're the one who refused to sleep."

Bucky looked away from her and crossed his arms, his mouth pursing into an unhappy expression.

"I'm just saying," she muttered. 

They didn't have long to wait before the inner door to the office opened and Billy Koenig trotted through. "Sorry for the wait."

"S'up Billy?" Darcy greeted, and shot a quick look at Bucky to make sure he hadn't gone into attack mode. He was still leaning against the wall, but his body was frozen, rigid. "And no worries, it was like two minutes, tops."

"Agent Lewis. How do you always know which of us is which?" Billy chuckled and gave her a conspiratorial smile. She honestly couldn't tell the Koenig brothers apart physically, but they each had little duties they preferred to do, so she guessed right more often than not. 

"It's easy," she grinned back. "You're the tall one."

He smiled broadly and nodded at the case in her hand. "And you have the case."

"For Coulson," she said, wrapping her fingers more tightly around the handle, a pointed statement that she had not travelled this far with the damn thing to not shove it in Coulson's arms herself.

Billy held up his hands. "Of course. And you're in luck, he got in last night."

"Awesome." Darcy straightened from her slouch against the desk and waved a hand over at Bucky. "Billy, this is Sgt. James Barnes. Bucky, Agent Billy Koenig."

Billy drew in a long breath and straightened himself up to the point of absurdity, like he was preparing to greet a dignitary and was nearly vibrating with pleasure at the thought. He approached Bucky with a hand outstretched. "Sgt. Barnes, it is such an unbelievable honor to meet you, sir."

Bucky stared at him for a long second, but Billy's adoring gaze never wavered, and Bucky finally grasped the agent's hand in a brief but firm shake. 

Darcy smiled and shook her head at Billy's flushed face. "I hope you don't mind I brought him along."

"No, no," he assured her quickly. "Director Coulson said we might see Sgt. Barnes at some point. I, uh, took the liberty of making a security badge for him." Billy pulled the card from his pocket and, with an air of ceremony, presented it to Bucky. "Welcome to the Playground, Sergeant."

Bucky took the card and nodded at Billy. "Thank you."

Billy smiled and clasped his hands together. "Well, let's get you to the Director." 

"Oh, wait. I brought donuts," Darcy pointed to the boxes on the desk, and Billy's eyes lit with happiness. He trotted over to pick up the boxes, then badged them through the inner door and Darcy and Bucky followed him into the warren of corridors. 

"Any problems?" Billy asked as they walked.

"Hydra was on to Holloway," Darcy said shortly, not particularly interested in reliving that at the moment.

Billy turned his head towards her, his gaze sharpening. "Did they follow you?"

"Of course not," she huffed and gave him a narrow-eyed look. Next to her, Bucky grunted, annoyed. Darcy rolled her eyes. "Sgt. Barnes took care of the issue."

"Good, good," Billy nodded. "And Agent Holloway?"

"Fine, but retired. And very, very firm about that."

"Gotcha. I'll take him off the list." Billy waved them into the common room, stopping in long enough to drop off the donuts and look longingly at the boxes, before deciding duty before donuts. "Make yourself at home; I'll go see if the Director's ready for you."

Darcy dropped the case onto the worn, wood table, and dropped herself into a chair. Bucky, meanwhile, made a restless circuit of the room, only pausing to stare up at the old SSR logo on the far wall. He didn't move for a long moment, but finally pulled himself away and continued with his survey. 

A couple of agents Darcy didn't know wandered through, but after a look at Bucky lurking around the edges, decided they wanted to be somewhere else. Chewing on a thumbnail, she watched her asset. Maybe this wasn't such a hot idea, Bucky in the base. How many of these agents had been at the Triskelion? He was cleaned up, and though his hair was still long, it was pulled back, he was wearing his army surplus street clothes instead of his battle gear, but she supposed nobody who'd been there that day would forget the human buzzsaw who'd torn through SHIELD's defenses like they were tissue paper. 

Billy returned after a few minutes, promising her Coulson would see her when he was off his call, and they sat and chatted about the state of their worlds, while Billy made a dent in one box of donuts. A tall, blonde agent entered the room, paused at the sight of Bucky, her eyes narrowing and her body tensing, but she shook it off and crossed to the table with a smile. Darcy noticed, however, that she was careful not to turn her back to Bucky, keeping him in her field of vision as she moved. 

Billy straightened and smiled back. "Agent Morse, have you met Agent Lewis?"

"I don't think so." Agent Morse stuck out her hand. "Bobbi Morse."

Darcy gave her a quick handshake. "Darcy Lewis."

Something sparked in Bobbi's eyes, recognition, puzzlement, and she cocked her head to better consider Darcy. "You aren't the Lewis who trained with Clint Barton, are you?"

"I am," Darcy told her with careful blandness and a raised eyebrow. 

Bobbi blinked, the puzzlement growing to actual confusion, and Darcy could see the questions forming. It was a reaction she'd gotten used to — she did not look like a specialist, not even sort of, and plenty of people in SHIELD had always had a hard time figuring out where she fit in. It never bothered her; Darcy Lewis spread confusion in her wake. Totally her superpower. And, well, she would happily admit she'd enjoyed the baffled gaping every time she and Natasha strolled through the NY base. They'd, maybe, done it on purpose a time or two. Natasha always said her powers of being unassuming were an asset, but it was good to remind the people they worked with that she was more than what they assumed. It was a respect thing. Not that anybody would even think for a moment of being disrespectful to the Black Widow's trainee. Being Clint's trainee, too, only added to the confusion. It was damned entertaining. Darcy accepted she wasn't always about being the bigger person. Starks were kind of trolls, it was in the blood, no help for it. 

Before Bobbi could ask the questions she clearly wanted to, her mouth just starting to form the words, the room exploded into chaos. Another agent entered, and Darcy's attention was caught by Bucky's sudden movement, by the way he tensed and spun, by the feral, ugly snarl that twisted across his lips. The other man gaped at him for a moment, then went for his gun. Bucky leapt at the man, grappling with him before the agent could clear his weapon. Koenig knocked over his chair in his haste to get to his feet, Morse pulled her own weapon and trained it on Bucky. Darcy, unlike the tense pair at her back, knew exactly what happened, and she darted over to the struggling pair, blocking Bobbi's shot on Bucky. 

Bucky had the man on the ground, one hand wrapped around his throat, and the agent gasped and twisted, clawing uselessly at Bucky's hand. 

"Don't kill him," Darcy ordered, breathless, her heart hammering in her chest. "Coulson will want to question him."

Realizing he was caught, the agent sneered up at them and choked out, "Cut off one head—" his words died in a garbled slur when Bucky's metal hand clamped on his jaw. 

"Later," Bucky growled, a dark promise to the man. "Second molar. Upper left."

Darcy turned to call over Koenig but her own words faltered when she noticed Bobbi'd circled around and had her gun aimed at Bucky's forehead. Putting a hand on his shoulder, Darcy made very clear her position in this standoff. "He's Hydra," she said, trying to keep everybody calm with a steady, even voice, and pointing at the man on the ground. Then she glanced at Billy. "Billy. He's got a poison tooth."

Billy, his own weapon in his hand but pointed at the ground, responded to Darcy immediately and grabbed for his tablet. "Right. Can you hold him, Sgt. Barnes?"

"Yeah," he growled, and the man picked up his struggling, but Bucky was stone, unmovable and cold. 

Bobbi's gun hadn't moved, she was still locked on Bucky, her eyes flinty, bitter in their hardness. "Agent Morse," Darcy snapped. "Point the gun at the actual bad guy."

The other agent's eyes shifted over to her and for a moment they stared each other down, Darcy set her jaw and tilted her chin up defiantly. Finally, Morse lowered her weapon and took a step back. 

Seconds later three agents in tac gear dashed into the room. Billy waved them on. "The one on the floor," he said. "Hydra. Sedate him, we need the tooth extracted."

One of the men had a white case in his hand, and he approached cautiously, his eyes wary on the man holding down the infiltrator, as the other two took up a covering position. 

Bobbi holstered her pistol and held a hand out. "Give me the kit." The man gratefully passed over the case, and Bobbi opened it, pulling out a syringe. She knelt next to Bucky and stared at him long enough that Darcy knew, just absolutely _knew_ the woman was debating using the needle on Bucky instead. That would end so badly. And also it would really, really piss her off. 

"Do it," Bucky snarled, jerking his head at the man on the ground. 

Bobbi made the right choice, and a few seconds later the Hydra agent's thrashing stopped and the hand trying to push away Bucky's went limp. Bucky released him and shoved away, scrambling backwards, his face revolted and haunted. He got to his feet and turned his back to the room. Bobbi was watching him curiously, while the other agents hefted the spy onto a stretcher. 

Darcy crossed her arms, hunching a little against the dwindling shock of the sudden fight, and stood next to Bucky, facing the other agents, covering him. She couldn't honestly think of anything to say, but she could at least let him know he wasn't alone. 

"I think I worked with him once," Bucky told her quietly, trying to explain his reaction to himself as much as to her. "I don't remember. I just knew he wasn't right."

Billy, who looked relived and possibly actually happy about the Winter Soldier in their midst, walked over to thank him. "It sure is a good thing you showed up today. You saved us a world of trouble."

Bucky watched him for a moment, an incredulous twist to his brow, then he nodded and glanced down. "Glad I could help."

Darcy saw movement at the door, and watched Coulson watching the agents cart out the Hydra spy, a sad frown creasing his forehead as he glanced down at the man on the stretcher. 

"Yes, thank you, Sgt. Barnes," Coulson said. "I owe you one. I _really_ hate moving."

Bucky turned to face him and took a deep breath, his jaw tightening as he stared down the Director. "You owe me more than one," he shot back. "You sent Darcy out alone?"

Coulson frowned and walked over to them. "She's more than capable." He looked at Darcy. "Was there a problem?"

"Hydra," Bucky barked, pointing a finger at the door the prisoner had been carried through. 

"Hydra?" Coulson echoed, and gave Darcy a questioning look. 

"They were after Holloway. Bucky's got great timing," she said with a vague shrug. 

"Damned good thing," the soldier snarled under his breath. 

"I see," Coulson said, his face going tight as he thought, as the op and its ugly turn played out in his head. "I'm sorry, Darcy."

"No, it's fine." She shook her head and pointed to the case. "There's your package. Holloway is retired."

"Understood." Coulson picked up the case, hefting it in his hand for a moment, before looking back up at Bucky. "I really didn't have anybody else."

Darcy gave Bucky a nudge in the side, trying to get him to relent, but he was rigid. "Ops turn, I'm pretty sure you were the one who told me that," she told Coulson with a weak smile. 

Bucky shifted on his feet and took a half a step towards Coulson. Bobbi took her own step forward, but Coulson waved her back. 

"She's not going out alone again," Bucky told Phil, his voice promising the Winter Soldier's preferred method of cleansing with cold fire.

"Barnes," Darcy growled back in a low, irritated voice. "It's my job."

Coulson, who had faced gods and monsters and death itself, didn't flinch away from the Winter Soldier. "I'm down to a handful of agents, Sergeant. We're doing the best we can, but we're stretched thin. And there are circumstances, situations, I only trust a half dozen agents to handle. And you just demonstrated why."

Bucky's face went hard and he let out a snorting breath through his nose, like he was bull about to charge. If the room hadn't been so charged, Darcy would have laughed at him. "You want her, you get me."

Darcy's brain went blank at that, and even Coulson blinked.

"Are you saying you're in, Sgt. Barnes?" He asked, like he wasn't sure he heard what he thought he heard and he really needed clarification. 

Bucky crossed his arms, stubborn and truculent. "I'm saying you send her out, I'm going, too."

Coulson let out a little breath, his shoulders dropping like a profound and crushing weight was lifted. "Thank you, Sergeant. I accept." He glanced at Darcy, who'd come out of her surprise enough to be annoyed by the two of them talking about her but not to her. And doubly annoyed by the suggestion she wasn't capable of doing her own damned job. Coulson recognized the look and tipped his head in her direction. "If the partnership is acceptable to you, Agent Lewis?"

Damn him for going all Director formal on her. She could hardly be petulant when he so desperately needed every warm body and Barnes was a hell of a bonus. But, _partnership_? Oh lord. "Yes, sir."

Coulson looked at her for a long moment. "Darcy?"

And then he had to go and top it off with his concerned Uncle Phil voice. Darcy sighed and glanced up at the ceiling for a moment. Bucky was a statue next to her, immobile in his resolve. 

She bowed to her defeat. "It's all good. I'd already promised him I'd call if I had to go out without backup again."

"I don't like sending anybody out without backup," Coulson said. "It's not a commentary on your abilities."

"I know."

A new voice, quiet but sharp, broke into their conversation. "What the hell happened here?"

Bucky stiffened, which didn't seem like it should be possible. Darcy craned her head to look around Phil, and watched May cross the room to them. 

Coulson's lips turned up into a small, rueful smile and he gave Darcy a one shouldered shrug. "A solid partnership is the best asset you can have in the field."

"Lewis. Barnes. Good to see you both again." May frowned at the overturned chairs and gave Coulson a raised eyebrow.

"Palmer was Hydra," Coulson said, sounding weary.

May's eyes closed on a long blink and she gave a small shake of her head and let out an exasperated breath. "Great."

"Sgt. Barnes took care of it for us," Coulson continued with a smirk.

May tipped her head at Bucky in thanks. "You kill him?"

"No."

She shrugged and looked a little disappointed. "Oh well." She glanced at the briefcase in Coulson's hand. "That's the case?"

"Yep."

"What's in it?"

Coulson held up the case between them and gave it a little shake. "No idea," he said almost cheerfully. May gave him a flat look, but he just smiled back. "We can find out later. Darcy, May, I'd like to talk to the two of you. Sgt. Barnes, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to look over our personnel files with Agent Koenig and Agent Morse. Maybe you'll spot another familiar face. I hope not, but I'd appreciate it if you looked."

"Yes, sir," Bucky agreed quietly. 

Darcy might have had some reservations about leaving Bucky with Morse, who was obviously not comfortable with the Winter Soldier, but Billy was already chattering away and waving Bucky over to the table as she left the room with Coulson. Billy she trusted to keep the situation under control. Or, at the very least, to let the Director know the second things went badly. 

Coulson led them to his office, where he dropped the case on his desk, and turned to face them, propping a hip on the edge of the desk. "So, he's still kind of intense, huh?"

Darcy held up a hand and tipped it side to side. "It's not so bad. But that made him edgy." She jerked her chin at the briefcase. "Plus, strangers. And then, you know, Hydra jackass. So, he's stressed."

"How are his memories?"

Darcy considered it. They'd talked a lot during their road trip. Or the first part of, anyway. "That depends. He's remembering a lot more about what happened before Hydra grabbed him. He does have some memories of his time as the Winter Soldier, but he's not big on talking about them. When he does, it's more impressions than details. He did tell me something interesting, though. He said his brain gets jittery when he tries to think about some things, and specifically whenever he sees Steve. It makes it hard to hold onto thoughts."

"Is he stable?" May asked. 

"Yes," Darcy responded without hesitation. May raised an eyebrow. "What? He's as stable as anybody else I know. For whatever that's worth. I'm not going to say he's perfectly great, but he's not about to snap and take out a school bus of nuns and orphans."

May's eyes narrowed and Coulson cleared his throat. 

Darcy rolled her eyes and sat in the chair across from Coulson's desk and slouched down. "He's plenty dangerous. You'll really enjoy the security footage of what went down earlier."

"But, you have him under control," May pressed.

Darcy made a face at that. She really didn't like that turn of phrase. "He's got himself under control."

"But, he looks to you for your reaction, your approval. I've seen it."

"I guess."

"You haven't noticed?"

Darcy groaned and rubbed a hand over her face. "I did. I know he does it. I try not to feed into it, actually. Damn it, I've caught him looking at me for permission to _eat_. Jesus. He doesn't need my permission to have a sandwich. Let's just break that nasty habit, huh?"

"Alright," Coulson said in a voice that said the topic was closed. "It sounds like you've got a good understanding of Sgt. Barnes. With your new partnership—"

"Partnership?" May cut in again. "Is that wise? Look, Lewis, I'm sympathetic to what he's been through. And I know you've done good work with him. I'm not knocking you. But—"

"He's the Winter Soldier," Darcy concluded for her. 

"There are a lot of people hunting for him," May said in warning.

"Oh, I know," Darcy said with an unconcerned tilt of her head. Turns out a person can get grabbed by the bad guys for any number of reasons. You can either go to ground and hide away, or you can go out and do your thing anyway. Darcy chose the latter option. Fuck Hydra. "I got the low-down from Natasha. And Hydra's tried to grab him back once or twice already."

May turned to Coulson. "Are you really going to put her in that position?"

"Yes."

"Phil."

Darcy wanted to melt into the walls, or ooze out under the door. Their voices, their stubborn stances, told her this was the start of a mom and dad argument she wanted no part of. 

"It was Sgt. Barnes's idea, anyway," Coulson told May, sounding as close to happy as she'd heard him in a while. Maybe since that one time he called her and told her they'd found Steve in the ice. His childhood heroes were on his team. "And Darcy agreed."

May let out a long breath and raised her eyes to the ceiling like she was gathering her patience. "Fine. Can I just point out that we still don't know what Hydra did to him when they had him? What sort of _controls_ might still be in place?" She held out her hands and shot Darcy a look. "I'm just concerned."

"You've considered this, I assume," Coulson said, giving Darcy a look that said she'd better well have thought about it. And, she had. She'd thought about it from the moment she met Bucky. She spent hours thinking about it. She spent long nights pondering. 

"Whatever they did to him, they had to keep doing it," Darcy said eventually. "I know Hydra's mind control process doesn't work on everybody. And, so, whatever they did to him, they had to do it over and over. The second he saw Steve, it broke. Then they had to do it again just to get him to go back out. And it broke again. I think they tried to wipe those stronger memories, or, like, condition an aversion to them — that's that jittery feeling he gets. Only it worked against Hydra, because it broke their own control. We've actually talked about this, swear to God." She sat up from her slouch and leaned forward, hands out, pleading for them to understand. "He might not get his memories back 100%, but Hydra had to make a hell of an effort for decades to hold on to him. And they lost him anyway."

"And what about failsafes?" Coulson asked. "Mental or even mechanical."

Darcy chewed on her lip. "Ugh, we know how much Hydra loves their failsafes. If I thought I could get him to sit still for an exam by Simmons or Bruce, I'd do it. I mean, I'm sure I can talk him into it eventually, but it'll take some time."

"Simmons has treated him before," May pointed out. "He knows her."

Darcy shrugged. "He's stressed today. I don't think he'll go for it, but I'll ask."

"Good," Coulson said. "If not today, try for soon. Make it a priority."

She smirked and tossed him a sloppy salute. "Yes, sir."

Coulson pushed up from his position against the desk and circled it to sit down at his chair and he started to poke through some papers. "With your partnership, you've got a lot more flexibility and range. I'm sure I'll be able to keep you two busy."

"Awesome. Though, now's the time to mention Bucky's got an op for us. Some Hydra banker dude called Bader."

Coulson's head came up sharply and even May jerked. "Jurgen Bader?"

"I guess?"

Coulson sat back and looked over at May. "We've tried to get him for years. He runs the accounts for any number of black market arms dealers and terrorist fronts."

"Bucky says he comes out of hiding every now and again," Darcy said. 

Coulson nodded. "From time to time. He's heavily guarded. Never travels to the same location twice. He even shifts residences every three months. We had Natasha on him at one point, but the op was canceled before she could close." His mouth tipped into a disgusted frown. "I guess we know why now."

"That would be a big get," May mused. "They've got other bankers, but Bader … that would really put a hurt on Hydra."

"Agreed."

"Well, Bucky's got the details. I'll let him fill you in," Darcy said, then winced. "He wants to talk to you anyway."

Coulson chuckled and gave her a smirk. "Goody."

"And, uh, May, would you mind if I talked to Phil alone for a few minutes?"

May gave her a curious look but shrugged and started for the door. "Sure. I'll see how they're doing with the personnel review."

"Hey, May, just so you know," Darcy called out to her as the other woman was leaving. "He'll listen to you. He mentioned you a few times. So, you made an impression."

May offered her a small smile and nodded. "Glad to hear it."

Coulson waited for the door to close before asking, "A _good_ impression?"

Darcy laughed. "Yeah. I guess she gave him a little talking to when he was on the Bus. I don't know what she said, but I gather he respected it, whatever it was."

He nodded slowly. "I see. Well, good. So, what's on your mind?"

Darcy licked her lips and shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She needed to talk to somebody about Bucky, and Phil'd been her first choice, but now that she was here, she was having serious second thoughts. But, Phil'd always been her voice of reason. "Okay, so, remember when you said be very clear with my goals for Bucky?"

"Yes."

"I don't think I was," she admitted with a grimace.

Coulson's lips thinned, but it looked more like he was hiding a smile than that he was upset. "I'm not surprised. _Home_ was always a little vague."

"I know, I know." She waved a hand at him. Licking her lips, she tried to get her thoughts ordered, but ended up just blurting out, "He asked me out."

Coulson's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"I mean, okay, the first time—"

"The first time?"

"—it was when he was totally high on that Hydra tranq and bleeding out, so I was like whatever, pal. But, then he asked me out again when he wasn't stoned or bleeding. He was eating waffles. I mean, what? What?" She shoved a hand through her hair, then yelped when her fingers caught in the road trip tangles. 

"And what did you say?"

Darcy pulled her fingers out of her hair and turned her head away from him, but squinted and looked back in his direction. "Yes?"

Propping his elbows on his desk, he considered for a moment. "You said 'yes' because you wanted to, or 'yes' because you thought you should?"

"I don't know. Well, not the second one, at all," she said. "I didn't know what to think. My brain shorted out. And I said yes."

"Didn't see it coming, huh?" Coulson asked, sounding amused.

"How could I? Come on." Darcy sighed and slumped back, kicking her legs out straight and staring at her shoes. "I'm worried he's, like, imprinted on me, or something."

"I can see how that would be a concern," he offered in a bland tone. Darcy glanced up at him, trying to get a read on him, but he was a blank. "SHIELD has protocols about agents and assets. And about agents dating."

"I know."

"But, he's not your asset anymore, and he's not a SHIELD agent."

Darcy groaned. She kind of wanted Phil to tell her 'no'. To say she was nuts to even be thinking this. She knew her own head was too muddled to sort this out. She liked Barnes far too much. That was terrifying, honestly. 

Coulson, who could read her a lot better than she could read him, smiled. "Have you thought maybe it would be good for you?"

Her face scrunched in a confused frown. "Excuse me?"

"I did background on you when I found out who you were."

"Of course you did," she muttered and he continued to smile back.

"And I know you've avoided serious relationships. I even know why." She grunted and stared back at her shoes. "I'm sure you get tired of hearing this, but you're a lot like your father. You've avoided his self-destructive tendencies, but you've both protected yourselves from attachments. But, since I've known you, you've opened yourself up to the people around you. It's been good for you. I can see the difference. I'm not approving a relationship with Sgt. Barnes; that brings with it a host of complications. I'm sure you've thought about it."

"Yes," she agreed emphatically. "So many. All the complications."

Coulson's mouth twitched and he sat back in his chair. "I'm not going to order you not to pursue a relationship, either."

She let out a long breath and pushed her fingers under her glasses, pressing at her eyes. "Yeah, okay."

"You lead with your heart. It's who you are. It's why I recommended you to Fury as the Avengers' liaison."

"I thought it was my skills at obfuscation?"

"No, that's why I recommended you to SHIELD. For the Avengers, we needed somebody who would actually care about them. Who would put them first, even if that meant breaking orders, going against protocol." He laughed, a quiet little huff. "Not that I advocate breaking orders."

She tossed him a half smile. "Of course not, Director, sir."

"You want my advice? Just work on your partnership with him. See how it goes."

"See how it goes," she sighed. "Yeah, I can do that."

"You've spent time with him in close quarters before. But, I suppose things are different now. So, how'd this time go?"

"Fine, actually. Well, he wouldn't let me go to Mount Rushmore," she said with a pout. They'd been so _close_. "But that was because he was twitchy about that briefcase." She gave him a questioning look. "You really don't know what's in it?"

"No idea." Coulson shrugged and glanced over at it. "I'll open it up later. It's safe now, that's what's important. Thank you, by the way. I'm sorry I didn't know Hydra was watching it so closely. If I'd known—"

"It's fine. You didn't know, and Bucky turned up at the right time."

"Just like that, huh?"

"He followed me from New York." She made a face. "He thought I was going to get myself into trouble."

"That's a good sign, though. A strong partnership is a real gift," he said with a sage nod. " _That_ will be good for you. Both of you. You've got the makings of a good team."

"I do the talking, he does the punching," Darcy said with a smirk.

"Whatever works."

Laughing, feeling a little better for her talk with Coulson, for at least getting it off her chest, she pushed herself to her feet. "Okay, so I'll let you get back to work. Thanks, Phil."

"Darcy, I'm not going to tell you what to do, but even if I did, I think you'll do what you feel is right, anyway." He gave her a wry smile. "You Starks are _really_ stubborn, you know that?"

"I've heard."

"There's one more issue we'll need to deal with at some point," he said, a warning and a hint of an order in his voice. "I'm willing to let it go today, given Sgt. Barnes's stress and that he did just save us from a Hydra infiltrator."

"What issue?"

"He's powered. The Winter Soldier has a file on the index, we'll need to update it." He waited for her outburst. Darcy wasn't a huge fan of the index. The first time she learned of it was an offhand comment from Bruce. When she asked for clarification, and he told her, she hit the roof, and called Coulson to ask what bullshit that was. She understood the rationale, that they were dangerous, that SHIELD needed to be prepared for the threats they might face, but putting people on a list to track sat wrong with her. Yes, the rationale was good, but look what happened when the good guys weren't as good as you thought they were. They launched three helicarriers with the intention of killing 20 million people they decided were threats. 

"I know you don't like it," Coulson continued when she didn't say anything for a moment.

"Phil, I spent my whole life hiding my identity," she told him quietly, feeling the weight and conflict of her duty to SHIELD. "I'm not a powered person, but who I am could still be dangerous. Dangerous to me, sure, but also to the people around me. And, I'm smart enough to be dangerous all on my own. Are you going to index me because I'm a Stark? You can't say we're normal."

Sitting back in his chair, weariness etched across the lines in his forehead. "Darcy—"

She waved a hand at him. The subject wasn't an easy one, with any easy answers, and this wasn't a battle she was going to win with SHIELD. Not right now, anyway. Maybe once it was back on its feet. But, for now she could do her best to control the part of it that she could. "No. Whatever. Give me his file, I'll index him myself."

"Can you be objective?"

"I'll be a hell of a lot more objective than anybody else." She sucked in her cheeks and let her eyes drift around the room as she continued. "He wouldn't let anybody else do it, anyway. And if you try to force him, you'll lose him."

"And you?"

She brought her gaze back to his and shrugged. "I won't be happy, I can tell you that."

"Understood," Coulson said, his voice quiet but firm. He did understand and she appreciated that. His position was far more complicated to navigate and balance than hers. She didn't envy the Director, not one little bit. "You can send Sgt. Barnes in."

"Okay. I'm going to go say 'hi' to everybody. I haven't seen Fitz since before." She flicked her fingers in a vague gesture, circling the room and the vastness of the Hydra mess. 

"He's doing better. But, be patient with him."

Snorting softly, she gave him a sardonic look. "I've got some good experience with patience."

"You do," he acknowledged with a smile. "We'll talk later about the Bader operation."

"Sure thing. Hey, I brought donuts." She pointed a pair of enticing finger guns at him. "You want me to send Bucky back with a couple?"

The heaviness in the room lifted and Coulson's expression brightened. "Creme filled?"

Darcy grinned, letting him know she wasn't upset with him, but rather the situation they found themselves in. Bygones with donuts. That's how you do it. "You got it, chief."


	15. Chapter 15

Walking down the corridor from Coulson's office, Darcy stuffed her hands in her pockets. Her steps slowed to a meander, and she sighed. Everything was still such a mess. Sometimes she had resolve, sometimes she knew they'd make it, but sometimes it felt like a never ending series of disasters. One after the other, before you could even get your breath. Coulson looked worn to the bone and May was stretched tight; the pressure they were under was almost unimaginable. Maybe with Bucky onboard they could start to make a dent here and there. Starting with Bader. 

"Bringing that _here_."

Darcy cocked her head at the harsh, angry hiss, and glanced around for the source. A low murmur followed, a woman's voice she couldn't make out. 

"I don't care he found—"

She stepped around the corner and nearly tripped over Mack and Bobbi, leaning in against one wall. "Mack, good to see you." She grinned at him, but though he nodded back, his eyes slipped away from her, dropping to stare at the base of a wall. 

"You, too, Lewis."

There was an unpleasant undercurrent swirling through the hallway, a nasty whiff of things hidden, unspoken. Darcy grinned and raised her shoulder at him and kept walking. Standing in the middle of that was no way to see what was happening. Clint said he could see better from a distance, and she totally got that. She could and would play oblivious. 

"I think they're still at it," Bobbi told her with a bright voice as she passed. Darcy paused and turned to face them. 

Mack pushed himself away from the wall and muttered an, "Excuse me," before walking off down another corridor.

Darcy ignored him and smiled stupidly at Bobbi. "They find anybody else?"

Bobbi's lips quirked up into a very convincing faux smile and she shrugged. "Not while I was there. With luck, there won't be anybody. Right?"

"Totes, dude," Darcy said in her informal co-ed voice, with a grin that never faltered. She tossed the other agent a little wave and wandered back into the common room, trying to sort out that little scene. Hushed conversations in hallways were not necessarily indicative of spy shenanigans, it could easily be some high school bullshit. God knows that stuff ran in little surges of rumor and petty backbiting at SHIELD before it fell. After it fell, with the stress, the agents forced into new positions with new departments, new colleagues, the place was ripe for territorial pissing contests while everybody tried to figure out where they fit. Black ops high school. 

Darcy could play that game, and besides, it was probably less bitterly acrimonious than the academic department battles Jane enjoyed so much. Damn, she was glad to be out of that. After London Jane was a superstar, people stopped assuming she was crazy, and stopped ignoring her because she was too young and a chick. Jane was about a million times happier and the battles were small and brief, Jane rolling triumphantly over anybody in her way. That part was a lot of fun, at least.

Returning to the common room, Darcy paused at the door. Bucky, Billy, and May were sitting around the table, looking at Billy's tablet. May had a dark scowl on her face, just shy of murderous. Bucky was hunched in his chair, his shoulders tense but his face was pulled down in a uncertain frown. She sighed and stepped forward into the next swirling nexus of uncomfortable. 

"Hey, guys," she said, keeping her voice light while she tried to figure out what was about to blow up ugly. "What's up?"

Billy gave her a sad shake of his head. "We just found another."

"Well, hell." Darcy stood next to Bucky and looked over his shoulder at the tablet. Silvio D'Orsi, a specialist. Yeah, Darcy was sure he was — a specialist at evil and scumbagness. 

"Just him," May snorted and sat back in her chair, arms crossed.

"I don't know everybody," Bucky muttered under his breath.

"It wasn't a commentary on you, Barnes." May shot him an impatient look. "I saved his life once. I'm regretting it."

Bucky's lips twitched and he looked at May out of the corner of his eye. 

Darcy shrugged. "Better luck next time, I guess."

May gave her a solemn nod and stood. "Coulson ready for him?"

"Yeah." She clapped a hand on Bucky's shoulder, pleased when he didn't so much as twitch. "Go easy on him, huh? He's got a lot on his plate."

Bucky let out a little breath of amusement and stood as well. "Don't worry, doll. I won't break him."

"I know you won't. But, as a friendly reminder, I fired my first howitzer when I was eleven." She raised an eyebrow at him and he smiled back, unrepentant. "Oh, hey, take him a couple donuts."

"What am I? His butler?"

She leaned over and picked through the open boxes, plucking out a pair of donuts and setting them on a napkin. She turned back and shoved the bundle at Bucky. "You're a nice boy from Brooklyn who's going to do me a favor and take the Director a couple of damned donuts because I promised him."

Bucky laughed and May's eyebrows shot up to her hair line. "You already owe me a dance, you want to rack up a bigger debt?"

"So now I owe you two," she told him giving him a challenging look. "Get out of here, Barnes. I've got people to see."

"Alright, alright." He smirked and followed May out of the room. 

Darcy let out a long breath and turned to Billy. "I'm going to go say hi to everybody. Is there anything I can do for you before I go?"

"Nope." Billy plucked up his tablet. "Just gotta take care of this."

"Sorry, man." 

He sighed quietly but gave her a resilient smile. "At least we found him now before he could cause too much trouble."

With a pat on Billy's shoulder, Darcy left the room and wandered down to the hanger. She'd visit the Bus, see who was around. Mack was lurking in the hanger when she entered, but he did a good job of pretending he didn't see her. They hadn't spent a lot of time together last she'd been at the Playground, but he'd always seemed friendly enough. They'd both sighed over the damage to Lola, and he'd helped her sneak it out. She'd just assume he was having a bad day before she went to the paranoia place. 

There were a few techs in the Bus, but nobody she really knew. No Skye, no Fitz, no Simmons. It was almost sad to see the plane so empty. Leaving the Bus, she thought about asking Mack where the others were, but he was hunched over his work bench, wiping down his tools with a grease-stained rag. 

Her next stop was the engineering lab, where she found more technicians she didn't know, but she stopped anyway, and slumped down into a chair next to a desk. With a deep breath of machine shop air, she felt some of the tension drain from her shoulders. The smells of machine oil, scorched metal, and a hint of melting plastic were comforting, relaxing even. And she was tired. Not needed a nap tired, but weary. It had been a long week. 

In the soothing familiarity of the lab she sat and let her mind wander. She considered her new partner, considered the future of SHIELD, pondered the weird dynamics of the place now, thought about Bucky, tried not to think about Bucky, couldn't help but think about Bucky, tried to think about Steve instead, but that only made her think about him and Bucky. Tried to think about her dad, but then that made her wonder what he was up to. His new suits didn't require machine assembly, but he'd taken the assembly apart and rebuilt it in a space under the Avengers' common floor. It had been a hell of a racket when he knocked out the exterior wall and put in what amounted to a launch door. Oh, dad, what the hell are you doing?

"Hullo." 

Darcy glanced up and smiled at Fitz, standing in front of her with a frown on his face. "Hey Fitz."

He licked his lips and glanced around. "Do I—? I mean …"

She saw his brow crease, puzzled, as he tried to search his memory. Oh, yeah, she had far too much experience with this. Her heart twisted in her chest, but she offered him an easy out. "We met once, geez, about a year ago, I guess." 

"Yeah, yeah, 'course we did." He nodded. "The uh …" he flapped a hand around, then pointed at her with a triumphant smile. "Stark. The Stark tech on the Bus."

"Yep," she grinned back. "What a mess."

He chuckled. "Hot … uh, they used the, uh, hot glue gun on the … the power couplings."

"Right," she agreed. "Who does that?"

"Idiots," he said quickly with a firm nod. "Idiots do that."

Darcy laughed, she really did like Fitz. "It's good to see you again, Fitz."

"You, too." He bit his upper lip and then smiled again. "Lewis."

"So what are you up to today?"

"Just tinkering, really." He pointed over at a work bench. "Want to see?"

"Love to," she said and bounced up off her chair, glad to see him again and even more glad to have an escape from her circling thoughts. "I heard you got the cloaking working on the Bus."

"Yeah, yeah, had it all along, you know, just had to …" He pointed a finger at his temple. "Just had to put the, um, pieces together, you know?"

"Awesome job, especially considering how big a mess everything's been," she praised easily. It really was an awesome achievement given their current limitations. 

"Thanks. Yeah. It was good to get through it." He stopped at the bench and dropped his tablet next to a tangle of wires and spare parts. He picked up a small device and waved it at her before setting it down and working on prying at the cover. "Want better, uh, better field analysis equipment, yeah?" he muttered and struggled with the case. One of his hands didn't seem to be cooperating, but Darcy held her offer of help, he'd ask if he needed or wanted it. Plenty of time with Bucky told her when to stay silent. 

He got it free finally and placed it on the table where she could look over it. "Think I can integrate it into our kit eventually. Photoacoustic spectrometer."

"Wow, it's tiny." Darcy pushed her glasses up her nose and leaned forward. 

"Yeah, yeah. Better that way," Fitz said, excitement and pride in his voice. "More sensitive."

"How do you keep the oscillation of the mirror steady? Like from movement if it's handheld."

"Two different sorts of gel — a pseudoplastic on the external, to disperse vibration and then a sheer-thickening one to absorb, nano-molecular binding to smooth the, uh, the uh, transition; the interior case basically floats." He looked damned pleased and fiddled absently with the cover while gazing proudly down at the device. 

Darcy gave him an impressed thumbs up. "That is pretty cool, dude."

He offered back a bashful smile and a little shrug. "Bit, yeah. Still, uh, still got to work on the, um, sensitivity of the microphone. Small, yeah? Bit of a trick. But, we keep running into, um, things our portable mass-spec can't see through. Thought, well, thought this was worth a try."

"You ought to show this to Tony."

His eyebrows rose and he looked confused for a moment. "Tony?"

"Stark. He'll enjoy it. He might be able to help, too, with the miniaturization."

"Well, don't know that I'll ever … uh, ever meet him." Fitz pushed the device around the table. 

"I've got an in," Darcy told him with a sly smile.

He laughed a little. "Right, right, Stark tech, right. I remember. Still, busy man. What with the Avengers and all."

She considered him for a minute, and his shuffling hands. "Can I tell you a secret, Fitz?"

"Sure, yeah, sure." He quirked an eyebrow at her, curious. "If you want."

"Fitz, do you have—" Simmons interrupted them. Fitz's shoulders hunched up around his ears and his smile faded. Darcy frowned at both of them. This was not the FitzSimmons she knew. So, okay, she didn't know them all that well, but the difference from when she saw them together last and now was startling. And worrying. Coupled with Morse and Mack's whispered conversation, the last thing Coulson needed was his team starting to fray.

"Oh, hello," Simmons greeted with a strained smile. "It's lovely to see you again, Darcy."

Holy shit, this place was a hot mess, wasn't it? See what happened when she wasn't around? Everybody went all weird. 

Still, Darcy smiled back. "Jemma, how are you?"

"Oh, not bad. A bit busy, you know. As are we all," she said with a laugh that was too loud and too forced. 

"Did you need something?" Fitz asked, his voice tight. 

Simmons looked crestfallen for a split-second before tipping her chin up and pasting the smile back on. "You were going to fix the sample injector on the chromatograph."

"Oh, right, yeah, uh, yeah." He turned away from the bench and walked over to a side counter and started digging through items there. 

"Was he showing you his new spectrometer?" Simmons asked, refusing to let the tense smile slip again.

"Yeah," Darcy confirmed, trying to play along with the forced lightness of the mood. "Really cool."

"I agree." Simmons pitched her voice up so Fitz would hear her. "It will be a tremendous help in the field. I can't wait to test it out."

Fitz grabbed up the requested part and walked back over, handing it to Simmons and looking down at the work bench. "Still needs work," he muttered.

"You'll get it," Simmons said with gentle but firm resolve. Fitz just shrugged. 

"So," Darcy drew out the word, breaking into the awkwardness. "I was just about to tell Fitz a little secret, but I'm glad you're here. It's still kind of weird to say out loud, so I'm happy to only do it once."

"A secret?" Simmons asked, cocking her head to one side. "Is it one we really ought to know?"

"I think maybe knowing it will come in handy. For both of you." 

"Well, if you're sure. You can trust our discretion," Simmons said, throwing a little glance at Fitz, who gave her a small, acknowledging nod in return. 

Darcy took a deep breath and picked up the spectrometer. "I was just saying Fitz should show this to Tony Stark."

"That would be brilliant," Simmons said, perking up a little bit. "And you know him. Fitz, you should give her the diagrams."

"Maybe," he mumbled. 

"I don't just know him," Darcy said slowly, carefully placing the spectrometer back on the bench. It really was damned hard to get the words out still. And with the situation at the Playground apparently deteriorating, it felt even more daunting. But, Darcy was a fixer, and fixing problems, getting people what they needed, whatever else her job in SHIELD, that was something she was very good at. These two were important to Coulson, to SHIELD, and they'd all need each other. "He's my father."

"Really?" Fitz frowned at her, trying to determine if she was lying to him. Simmons was frozen next to him, her lips slightly parted like she wanted to say something but didn't even know where to begin. 

"Really. You can ask Skye or Coulson, if you're not sure if you believe me," she offered, not the least bit bothered by Fitz's skepticism. It could be hard to swallow, she knew. 

"No, no, I'm not, um, not saying you're a liar. Just, uh, just didn't think." He squinted at her and then down at his project. "That's … didn't know that." 

"Well, not many people do."

"Suppose they don't," he muttered. "Why tell us?"

She shrugged. "Coulson trusts you, and more than that he believes in you. You're both hella smart, and I figure you're going to be a big part of giving SHIELD the edge it needs to succeed. So, if either of you ever need anything, anything Stark, you should know I can get it for you."

Fitz nodded thoughtfully and pursed his lips. "Can I give you a list?"

"Yeah," Darcy said with a grin, relieved and happy to be able to help. "I love lists. And there's nothing I love more than shopping in dad's workshop."

His eyes went wide at the thought and he laughed again. "Bet it's fun, yeah?"

"Totally."

"Cool."

"Agreed." Darcy glanced over at Simmons, who still hadn't said anything. "Jemma?"

"Sorry, just goodness." Simmons shook herself. "But, you know, it makes sense," she laughed, and this time it was more natural, more relaxed. "What was it you said your father said? Always bring a gun to a knife fight? Doesn't that just sound like him." Simmons and Fitz chuckled together for a second, forgetting for just a small moment the uncomfortableness. "And, oh, the way you talked to him on the phone when you were working on the Bus. Poor Fitz was scandalized."

"I was not," he grumbled, picking up a screwdriver and turning it in his hands.

"You were, too." Simmons gave him a little nudge on the arm, and he smiled reluctantly. 

"Maybe a little," he allowed. 

Simmons gazed at him with a tiny smile, but it was fond and genuine. "And so, Skye and Coulson know?"

"And May and Trip. Trip was there when I told Coulson about Bucky Barnes."

"Oh, did you bring Sgt. Barnes with you?" Simmons asked, her eyes brightening with interest. "How is he?"

"He's doing fine. The wound healed up nicely. Thank you, by the way, for stitching him up." Darcy tipped her head at Simmons in gratitude. "I know he can be difficult to be around. But, he mentioned you were good with him." Well, shoving cookies at him counted as good, right? He was baffled but not irritated, and, frankly just noticing Simmons as a distinct person was pretty high praise. 

Simmons blinked, surprised. "Did he?"

"He did," Darcy assured her. "Coulson wants somebody to give him a full exam, and I'd ask you, but I don't think we're going to stick around. And he's not going to be up for it today."

Simmons clucked sympathetically. "Bit of a rough day, is it?"

"Yeah, sort of. He pounced on a Hydra spy upstairs earlier, and that's stressed him a little."

Fitz went rigid and the screwdriver fell out of his hand. "Hydra? Here?"

Darcy grimaced, a twinge of empathy for the two men so damaged by Hydra. She really could have considered Fitz's reaction before she opened her mouth, but she supposed he was going to hear about it one way or the other. "Yeah." She looked him in the eyes and tried to reassure him, "He took care of it."

"Good. Good," Fitz said, picking up the screwdriver again, but his knuckles went white as he gripped it. 

Simmons looked at his hand and bit her lower lip. "Yes, that's very good."

And now was the time where Darcy tried to come up with a way to extricate herself from the awkwardness without looking like that's what she was doing. "Hey, want to meet Bucky, Fitz? He's talking with Coulson now, but—"

"No, no, that's okay." Fitz shrugged and carefully set down the screwdriver. "Bit up to my ears here. Maybe some other time."

"Sure, but there's donuts upstairs," she told him with a cajoling lilt in her voice. 

"Nah, that's okay. Not hungry." He looked up at her and smiled. "Thanks, though."

"No problem, pal. Jemma?"

Simmons offered her a reluctant smile of her own. "Another time, perhaps. But, if Sgt. Barnes decides he's willing to have an exam, please, bring him by anytime. I'll be happy to do it. I'd like to have a better idea of what was done to him. We haven't had any particular complications with Captain Rogers, but we know so little about Hydra's process."

"Yeah," Darcy sighed. Complications with the super soldier process was not a topic she wanted to think about, but it was hardly one she could avoid. "Well, I'll get him to sit still for it at some point. If it's Dr. Banner, I'll have him send you anything he finds."

Simmons accepted that with a nod. "Thank you. Sgt. Barnes might not be the only subject. I haven't heard of any others, but it's better to be prepared."

"Right." Darcy pushed away from the bench. "So, I'm going to go. It was really great to see you both again. And Fitz, totally, send me your list."

"I will. Will do that, definitely," he agreed.

She pointed a finger at Simmons. "You, too."

"Of course. Thank you."

"Sure." Darcy stepped back and gave them a little wave. "See you around."

She walked out of the room and let out a long breath. Well, that was awkward and uncomfortable. _Oh little scientists, you've been through so much._ Darcy wanted to tuck them up somewhere safe where they could just science and be happy. Maybe she needed to start a Scientists Rescue Sanctuary. A little place out in the country somewhere, with like labs and puppies. Did Clint have a dog on his farm? Would Clint mind if she started bunking scientists in his barn? 

Turning her steps back towards the stairs to the upper level, she went two corridors down and ran smack into Skye.

"Just the person I was looking for," Skye said with a smile. "Billy said you turned up."

"Skye, thank God." Darcy lunged forward and pulled her into a hug. "Tell me you're not going to be all weird."

Skye's eyebrows rose and she gave Darcy a friendly pat on the back. "Weird?"

"Weird vibes all around." Darcy waved a flustered hand. Skye glanced past her, back the way Darcy'd come, and winced.

"Saw FitzSimmons?" She asked with a sad twist to her lips. 

"Yes. Wow, ouch." Darcy rubbed a hand across her forehead. "What the hell?"

"So many things." Skye sighed wearily, then shrugged and changed the subject. "I heard you brought tall, dark, and intense."

"Yeah, he's talking to Coulson now."

Skye huffed a little laugh. "Actually talking?"

"He had a head of steam going in, so yes." She tilted her head at Skye's questioning look. "We ran into Hydra. He's not happy."

Skye's mouth tightened and her nostrils flared in anger for a moment before she shook her head. "I heard about Palmer." 

"Yeah, that too. But before." It was Darcy's turn to brush off the subject. "But, anyway, guess it's just one of those days."

Skye jerked her head behind her, inviting Darcy to walk with her, and they both strolled down the corridor. 

"So much … so much has changed," Skye said, spreading her hands. "I mean, you've seen FitzSimmons, and Coulson's gone a lot, so most of the time it feels like it's just me and May. I mean, Trip's great, and there's Billy, and now we've got others, too, but they weren't there from the start, you know? 

Darcy nodded, she totally knew. "After New Mexico, when I went back to school, it was weird. I met the God of Thunder, and even if I could have talked about it, first of all, who would have believed me, and second of all, who would have understood? I felt like I was in some weird bubble. Everything looked different."

She offered Skye a self-conscious smile. "I know it's not quite the same, but no matter who else ever comes and goes in our lives, New Mexico was an experience and a bond nobody else can ever be a part of. And then, of course, there were the elves in London. You get in those super intense situations, you want the people you know can go through them with you, the people you've done it all before with, you know?"

Skye frowned thoughtfully and led Darcy to the stairs and sat on the second step. "I guess that's it. Also, that was pretty philosophical, actually." She laughed a little and gave Darcy a teasing look. 

Darcy sat with her and made a show of humbly accepting that surprise aspect of her character. "I'm as shocked as you are. I spend way too much time with Thor. When Jane's cheating on him with science, we kick it. He's got strong feelings about warrior bonds and familial ties. He's a thoughtful dude."

"Oh hey, I always wanted to ask," Skye said, leaning towards her. "Did you ever meet Loki?"

"No." Darcy shook her head. "And, you know, pretty happy about that. Though, Phil had me go to Tromsø to keep an eye on Jane right before Manhattan; he was worried Loki would try for her, I think. What he thought I would be able to do, I have no clue. Talk him to death, maybe?" She rolled her eyes and sat forward with her elbows on her knees and Skye snorted a laugh. 

"If anybody could do it," Skye told her.

"Hey, I'm good, but I know my limits. Though, you know, kind of sad I didn't meet him, too. Weird, but the Trickster? How much fun would he be? Am I right? Shame about that whole murdering psycho part." Darcy laughed. "Thor said Jane decked Loki the first time she saw him. I love Jane."

Looking impressed, Skye nodded emphatically. "She sounds pretty awesome."

"Yep."

"Lewis," May called her from the top of the stairs. Darcy and Skye turned to face her. "Sgt. Barnes is ready to leave."

"Oh, right." She pushed herself to her feet and started up the stairs with Skye. "They didn't rough each other up too much did they?"

May rolled her eyes. "It was pretty civil. And he laid out the Bader op, Coulson approved it, so you're clear to go. Barnes will brief you himself."

"Okay."

"Hit the armory if you need."

"Nah," Darcy waved a hand. "You guys need that. We'll raid the Tower's stores in New York. Easier to restock."

May accepted that with a shrug. "Barnes said you needed new ID, too. Billy's got them for you."

"Wow, he's fast."

"It's his job to be," May said flatly and lead them back into the common room where Bucky and Billy were waiting. "Coulson had to leave already. But, he says good luck. And I want you to keep in touch through the op."

"Yes, ma'am." She turned to Skye and gave the other agent another quick hug. "Good to see you. Stay safe."

Skye hugged her back. "You, too." She glanced over at Bucky and gave him a hesitant nod. Bucky nodded back. "See you around."

"Say 'hey' to Trip for me, will you?"

"You bet," Skye agreed before turning and leaving the room. Bucky made her nervous as hell. 

May stood stiffly for a moment before offering Darcy her hand. Blinking Darcy took it for a quick shake. "You've come a long way. You'll be fine."

"Thanks," Darcy said, warmed by May's, admittedly, mild praise. But, from her that felt huge. 

"Good luck." May turned and followed Skye out. 

Darcy turned back to Bucky and Billy. "Ready to motor, Barnes?"

"Yeah, let's hit the road, doll."

Billy stepped forward and offered her a white envelope. "A new license and assorted documents."

Darcy took the envelope and opened it up, pulling out a very convincing California license. "You are damned good, Billy."

He preened a little, puffing out his chest but smiling self-consciously. "Thank you. Don't be a stranger, huh?" He turned to Bucky. "Sgt. Barnes, it was wonderful to meet you, sir. Good luck with everything."

Bucky shifted on his feet but his lips twisted up into something that was nearly a smile. "Thanks, Koenig."

Billy left and then it was just the two of them staring at each other. "Partners, huh?" Darcy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky lowered his brow and gave her an intense look for a moment before breaking into a small but profoundly cocky smile. "Sure, why not?"

Darcy rolled her eyes but couldn't keep her own smile away. "Alright. Let's get out of here. I want to drop the car off." She waved him to the door and started out.

Bucky followed her out of the room and down the hall. "How're we getting back to New York, then?"

"Guess whose dad has a multi-billion dollar company and a fleet of private planes."

He huffed a laugh. "You?"

"Could be," she acknowledged with a passable degree of modesty. Well, she thought it was passible, Bucky just snorted softly. "Though, that reminds me, we should get you one of those prosthetic medical cards, though, for your arm, so you can go through airport security without being tackled." She glanced over at him and gave him a thorough up-and-down. "Or, I guess without the rent-a-cops _trying_ to tackle you."

He didn't look like the thought of facing airport security for any reason was at all appealing. "Maybe some other time."

"Yeah, well, not an issue now. It's a couple hours to the airport, and we'll go through the private entrance."

"How do you know there's a plane there?"

"I did actually plan out this op, you know," she grumbled. "That included a plane home. I'll call and make sure they're ready. We're a day behind because somebody got extra paranoid in North Dakota."

"Cautious, doll. I was being cautious." He stepped around her and pulled open the exterior door, holding it as she passed. 

"Sure, that's the word," she told him dryly. "What did you and Coulson talk about."

"The Bader op."

Darcy laughed and gave his arm a light thump. "You are such a liar."

"Am not. We did talk about it."

"Okay, fine, what _else_ did you talk about?" She circled her car to the driver's door and leaned against it to stare over the roof at him. "Did you yell at Phil?"

"No," he grumped. "I told him what happened in Minnesota. God damned fiasco from the start. He apologized again. That was it."

"Uh-huh." She was unconvinced, but she broke eye contact with him long enough to open the car door and slide in. 

Bucky followed and sat heavily in his seat. "He maybe expressed some concerns about my mental state."

Darcy ground her teeth and started the car with a growl. "Damn it, Phil."

"Nah, he's right, doll." Bucky relaxed back and stretched out his legs as far as they would go. "He just wanted to make sure I was together enough to watch your back. I told him I was. He believed me."

"He should, you managed it in Minnesota."

"And you covered me in Estonia." He looked out the window as Darcy pulled out of the compound. "I think we've got the partners thing pretty good."

"Not too bad."

"Of course you'll call me next time you go out."

Darcy let out a long breath and gave him a look. Would he ever let it go? Ever? "I _will_."

"Good." He seemed content and pleased with the situation, but he frowned after a moment. "You okay with it?"

"Perfectly fine," she told him, her eyes fixed on the road,

"I dunno," he murmured. "You sure? I, uh, realize I kinda pushed you into it."

"If you'd pushed too hard, I would have pushed back, Barnes." She snorted a laugh. "If I wasn't okay with it, I would have said. Believe me, I would have said. I would have said a lot. Loudly, probably."

He chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, that I can see. Probably roll in that howitzer, huh? Okay, good."

Darcy gave him a quick look. "Now take a nap or something, would you? Don't think I haven't noticed you didn't sleep for three days. The case is out of our hands, so you can relax."

"The Director said partners, not you being the boss of me," he said, but there was a touch of amusement in his voice and he crossed his arms and leaned his head back on the headrest. 

"The Director's not here, so shut up and sleep."

He closed his eyes and smiled. "Yes, ma'am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the curious or the confused, I made a really rubbish timeline for the whole WRLWA series in relation to the MCU, and you can find it [here](http://themonkeycabal.tumblr.com/post/118588660255/for-anybody-curious-or-confused-ive-made-a)


	16. Chapter 16

"You look like a sweet, fat angel baby when you sleep."

Bucky blinked over at Darcy and rubbed at his eyes with the heel of one hand. "What?"

Well, maybe not an angel baby, but the hard tension in his face softened, melting into the echoes of the boy he'd been. It was a damned good look on him, and she'd had to resist taking a picture. He was dangerous enough to her equilibrium, she didn't need to carry around a reminder of one of the reasons why. 

Darcy smirked at his disgruntled confusion. "Nothing. We're at the airport."

Darcy dropped the car keys with a Stark Industries driver who'd take the car back to the nearest SI facility, handed off her luggage to the ground crew, greeted the pilot, and led Bucky into the plane and to the passenger compartment. One step into the compartment and she stopped so suddenly Bucky bumped into her. 

"Son of a sucking pouch weasel," she grumbled under her breath, and held up a hand, pressing the back of it against Bucky's chest hoping to encourage him not to lunge forward around her. It's not like she was much of an obstacle to him, but she had hope. "Why am I even surprised? Creepy as ever, sir."

Nick Fury, seated comfortably in one of the compartment's plush chairs, offered her a toothy, shark-like smile. "Is that how you greet an old friend?"

"Were we friends?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. Of all the people to be haunted by. "Did I miss that when you were having me marched across the bridge?"

"That was for your own good." His eye moved past her to the lurking, tense figure at her back. "Gonna shoot me again?"

Darcy sighed and glanced over her shoulder at Bucky before looking back at Fury. "Nobody's shooting anybody on my plane."

"Technically, I think it's your father's," Fury pointed out. 

"We share." Darcy, mostly sure Bucky wasn't going to attack, stepped forward and dropped into the chair facing Fury's. "Congrats on not being dead, sir," she said as she gave him a close look over. He'd lost weight, and it wore in the lines of his face. He looked older, tired. Though, maybe that was just the effect of the street clothes instead of the black leather get-up she was used to seeing him in. Jeans weren't quite as intimidating. 

"Your new buddy there tried his best." Fury shot a look at Bucky, watching the assassin move, evaluation in his gaze, sure, but curiosity, too. "It was pretty close."

Bucky followed behind much more slowly, his eyes scanning the compartment for any other surprises, before he gingerly took a seat across the aisle from Darcy. "Don't think I remember ever missing a target before," he said quietly. 

"I'm a hard man to kill," Fury said, his voice frosty. Bucky just shrugged and looked out the window. 

Fury pulled his eye away from Bucky and back to Darcy, a deep frown pulling at his lips. "I had to have Phil repeat himself three times before any of this made sense." He waved a hand between her and Bucky. "Now, see, I had _such_ high hopes that you'd be the sane one in the family."

"Bummer, sir." Darcy squinted at him and frowned. "Wait. Is it still 'sir'?"

"Call me Nick," he said, the shark grin returning.

Darcy tested the name out in her head and grimaced. "Nope, can't do it."

"Try," he suggested in a tone that said it was more order than suggestion. "It occurs to me that you don't seem awfully surprised to see me."

"Alive, I guess maybe not? I mean, there's precedent. Like kind of a lot. But here? Yes, hello." She gave him an incredulous look and grumbled to herself for a moment. "I feel like I should point out Hydra suspects you might still be kicking. They don't know for sure, but it came up during a couple of my little chats with them."

Fury drummed his long fingers on the arm of his seat for a moment. "I heard about your capture."

"I totes would have sent you a postcard if I knew you were alive."

"Believe it or not," Fury said in a mildly conversational tone, his hands stilling, "I won't actually think any less of you if you drop the sarcasm for five minutes. You didn't tell them anything."

"No, I totally cracked. Hydra knows how everybody takes their coffee. It's not my fault they didn't seem to find that very interesting." Fury snorted, a sound somewhere between amused and exasperated, and Darcy looked away from him, out the window, watching the ground crew finish their work. "It's not like they brought it with the heavy torture or anything."

"A lot of times the threat is enough," Fury told her. "And you busted yourself out. That's good work, agent."

"I had help."

Leather creaked to her left and Bucky muttered, "You were out."

Clearing her throat, Darcy focused back on Fury. "So, what can we do for you, sir?"

"Nick."

Darcy bared her teeth in a pleasant smile. "Nick."

"I need a lift."

"Really?"

"Just as far as Colorado."

Darcy sighed and started to get up. There was probably no getting rid of him without some sort of scene and, well, he still commanded respect. Even from her. At least Colorado was on the way. "I'll tell the pilot."

"I already told him," Fury said, waving her back into her seat. 

Dropping back down, she pinned him with a look. "And why did he listen to the weird guy who wasn't in the initial flight plan?"

"I was added. Courtesy of your father."

That made her blink in surprise. "Dad knows you're alive? How did I miss out on the ranting?"

"No, he doesn't, and I'd like to keep it that way for now." He narrowed his eye at her. Another order.

Darcy pursed her lips and leaned back in the chair. "Hill."

"Well, you may not be the sane one," he said dryly, "but at least you've got a brain in there."

Ignoring the jab, she asked, "What's in Colorado?"

"I like to fish," he told her in a bland, off-hand tone that said he was lying and not bothering to pretend he wasn't. 

"Fish," she repeated, unimpressed by the half-assed lie. 

"Rainbow trout," he clarified. "You ever had fresh caught, pan-fried rainbow trout?"

"Can't say I have."

"You're missing out."

Darcy's frown tightened and she glanced over at Bucky who was watching her. When she turned back to Fury she felt the first sparks of anger just starting to burn. "Just so I've got this right — you fake your death, dump the smoldering wreck of SHIELD on Phil, and go _fishing_?" She asked sharply, her voice climbing. He wasn't the Director anymore, respect only went so far, and she didn't have to pretend to be deferential and polite. 

Fury held up a hand, trying to calm her burst of temper. "I gave him all the tools he needed to rebuild."

"Great. Just great," she grumbled. It wasn't that she thought Phil couldn't do it; frankly if anybody could or even should it was Phil. Still, though, make a mess and leave him to pick up the pieces — that was a shitty thing to do and it pissed her right the hell off. 

Fury sat forward in his chair, leaning in towards Darcy, prompting Bucky to shift uncomfortably in his seat. Fury pretended he didn't notice. "The world needs SHIELD, and you know that or you wouldn't still be in." 

She gave him a dark look but stayed stubbornly silent. 

"SHIELD was rotten from the inside and it took me too long to see it," he said. "Now it needs to be rebuilt, but it needs to be rebuilt the right way. I'm not the man to do that, but Phil is. I could have given it to Hill. She's good, and under any other circumstances, she'd be a more than capable Director. But, she's too pragmatic for _these_ circumstances. SHIELD needs to begin again with its heart and soul back in place. That's Phil. Hill's my right hand, but Phil was my good eye. He saw the things I stopped seeing a long time ago, he reminded me where the line was. He _believes_. Beyond ops and logistics and tactics, he believes in the why. He believes it in his bones. Tell me I'm wrong."

Darcy let out a long breath. "You're not."

"And the last thing he needs while he's trying to put the pieces back together is me looking over his shoulder. I gave him everything I had, everything he needed." He cocked his head and bobbed his chin at her. "You think he'll do it?"

"He'll do it," she said, firm in her certainty. 

Satisfied, Fury sat back. "He's already made a damn good start."

The three of them fell into silence for a few long minutes, listening to the thumps and clangs as the cargo door was shut, and the chocks removed. 

The flight attendant came through. "Miss Lewis, we're cleared for take off. Do you need anything before then?"

"No, thank you." Darcy smiled at the woman. 

"Flight time to Grand Junction is two hours."

Fury watched the woman leave then smirked at Darcy. "This one of the ones with the stripper pole?"

Darcy made a disgusted face. "Pepper had those removed years ago." Bucky shot her a look. "We're not talking about it." Fury chuckled. Holy crap this was going to be a long two hours. 

Fury didn't try to talk to her again until the plane reached its cruising altitude and the flight attendant came back through. Darcy ordered coffee; if she was going to have to deal with Fury for two hours, she needed to be as alert as possible. Once the woman had dropped off coffee and pastries, both of which Fury helped himself to and Bucky waved off until she pressed a plate into his hands — she was going to break his weird eating thing if it was the last thing she did — Darcy chewed at the inside of her cheek and contemplated the ex-Director. There was more he wanted than just a ride to Colorado, but he seemed willing to wait her out. 

"Did you have Hill watching me?" She asked at last.

"Not you specifically," Fury said. 

Nodding slowly, she took a sip of her coffee. "Could you tell her to back off? She's weirding me out with the buddy-buddy thing. I couldn't figure out where it was coming from."

"You never considered that she only wanted to get to know you better?"

Darcy scoffed. "Not for a single second."

Fury narrowed his eye and pointed a croissant at her. "Consider it. You're Stark's kid, and she knows Coulson likes you. Barton and Romanoff, too. She respects Rogers and knows you're friends. Give her a chance; she's a good person to have in your corner." He took a bite of his croissant and a sip of his coffee before he continued. "And so are you. This is how you build a network, Lewis. Work on it."

Feeling chastised and a little bewildered by that, she nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. You'll need it." He grinned then, but it was a real grin, nothing shark-like about it. It was a little unnerving. "You might find this hard to believe, but I like you, too."

"Nah, I always knew," she said with a wry smirk. "The million times you said 'get the hell out of my damned office, Lewis', were a dead giveaway."

Bucky snorted a laugh and started on his second eclair. Fury, however, didn't find that amusing.

"And why do you suppose I did that? And think about it, don't just pop off with that smartass crap."

Darcy winced and glanced down at her coffee. She'd gone over everything that went down at SHIELD right before it fell a million times — everything she knew, everything she saw, and everything she never noticed but should have. She'd known the answer for a long time. "You knew something was hinky, and because I reported directly to you, you were distancing yourself."

"Knew you were smart. So get over the hurt feelings," he told her firmly. "You're too old for that shit."

"Yes, sir."

"When Phil recommended you, he said you needed a push," he said. "So I pushed. I knew you could take it, but you were damned shaky when you started. I had to get you fighting for your team."

"By fighting you."

"If that's what it took," he agreed, unbothered by the role he'd cast for himself. "You're stubborn, I had to get you to direct it. For the Avengers. It worked didn't it?" He shot her a challenging look. "You started taking your training seriously, got dug in between them and anybody'd who cause problems. If it was to prove to me you could do it, or to rub my nose in it, didn't matter. It got you going."

Darcy rolled her eyes but didn't really know what else to say. Somebody she didn't really know seeing her that well was both unfamiliar and uncomfortable. That it was Fury looking made it marginally better, or at least, not surprising. 

"Now look at you, all grown up," he continued. "Blowing up Hydra bases, shaping yourself into one of the Director's go-to-agents out in the world, and bringing home Hydra assassins."

"Ex-Hydra POW," she corrected, bristling a little. 

"Mmhmm." Fury sipped at his coffee. "Let's talk about Sgt. Barnes."

"Sgt. Barnes is right there." Darcy jerked a thumb at Bucky. "How about we let him participate?"

"By all means." Fury tilted his head at Bucky. "Sergeant, you got anything you want to say?"

"No," Bucky said, his voice tight, and Darcy gave him a despairing look. She wouldn't mind some help here. 

"Alright." Fury turned back to her and gave an eloquent shrug that said 'hey, I tried'. "I'm just curious, what, exactly, was going through your head when you talked to him in DC?"

"That he wasn't shooting anybody and that he was talking to me." She cocked her head to one side thoughtfully. "Well, sort of talking."

"I see." Fury shook his head. "You're the only one crazy enough to have tried, I guess."

"Steve would have," she said loyally. She didn't mind the crazy comment, but, really. He'd been more Winter Soldier than Bucky in DC, but he was passive, not fighting. Dangerous, to be sure, but lost and broken. Anybody could have approached him in the right way and it wouldn't have had to turn out ugly. 

"Rogers has some _issues_ where Barnes is concerned."

"Oh, please," Darcy snorted and rolled her eyes. "Like he's the only one. I think we all gather issues like they're a prize collection. We even put them in the little mylar bags with the backing boards."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "And what's your issue, Lewis?"

"You don't know?"

"Enlighten me," he said in a low voice, warning her not to dissemble.

"Trust, apparently."

Fury smiled. "See, and there you were thinking we had nothing in common."

She had to laugh at that. "Gee, it's like we're BFFs." 

Fury sat back in his chair, cradling his mug, continuing his watchful evaluation. She wondered what he saw. 

"I knew your grandfather," he said after a moment, his tone light, conversational, not giving a damned thing away. "Did you know that?"

"I guessed," she said. It was hard to tell how old Fury was, exactly, but she knew he'd been in SHIELD for decades, he would have been there when Howard was still alive. She might not be sure how closely Howard continued to work with SHIELD through the years, but given that Hydra'd had him killed, there was no doubt he'd been close enough to notice something was wrong.

Fury's eye drifted over to Bucky and then back to her, his look a leading one. Those weren't pieces she needed to put together; neither she nor Bucky pretended that he hadn't been the weapon Hydra used to murder her grandparents. They didn't talk about it, but she hoped it wasn't some awful thing hanging in the air between them. She didn't feel like it should be — Hydra killed them, Bucky was just the weapon. 

Darcy set her jaw and raised an eyebrow daring the ex-Director to say otherwise. 

With a nod, accepting her stance, Fury set down his coffee. "I honestly don't know what he would have thought about a granddaughter in SHIELD. But, it's his legacy to you."

"I'm not going anywhere," she told him, her head still tilted back in defiance. 

"You're in an interesting position," Fury commented with a considering twist to his lips. "With things as they are now, you've got more authority than I think you realize. Phil might be the heart and soul, but even he's going to need reminding where the lines are. Everybody does. But this is your grandfather's legacy, you've got the opportunity to make sure it's a good one." He sat forward again and pinned her with a sharp look. "You've got a duty to do so."

Darcy bristled, she didn't like that he thought he had to tell her that. She knew what she had to do. She met his gaze squarely and said, "Yes, I do."

"What did I say?" Fury asked with a smirk, and she let out an irritated breath at his amusement. "You just needed a push."

Rolling her eyes, she sat back. "I could have done without the Hydra of it all."

"There's no changing where we are, Lewis," he told her, the command back in his voice, and picked up his coffee again. 

"So, was all this," she waved a hand at the compartment, "just for a pep talk, or what?"

"No, this was me making sure we were on the same page."

"Are we?"

"We are." He glanced over at Bucky again. "So, that's an interesting partner you've found for yourself."

"Are you talking to me or Bucky?" She asked in a sharp tone. 

"Both of you." Fury gave her a thin smile, but he didn't sound like he was joking or amused. 

Darcy snorted a laugh anyway. "He kept following me around."

Bucky gave her a flat look, then glanced over to Fury. "She keeps giving me money."

"Christ," Fury muttered. "Try to be grownups for one damn minute."

Bucky drew in a noisy breath through his nose and turned his head to look back out the window. Darcy sighed, Fury was exhausting, and it had been a long week. 

"What can we do for you, sir?" She asked again, trying to sound professional and polite. And trying to get him to get to the damn point of this little hijacking. 

Fury didn't look like he was entirely buying it, but his scowl eased. "I don't want to take you away from Coulson; he needs you. But, I need you, too." He glanced between them. "Both of you."

Darcy frowned at that. "For what?"

"I'll let you know."

"Oh, come on," she groaned and pushed her fingers under her glasses to rub at her weary eyes. 

"Coulson says you're a good team already, with the potential to be even better," Fury explained. "I've talked to Natasha about you, Lewis. She has good things to say about your abilities at assessment and infiltration. Barnes there is skilled at combat and tactics." Fury sat forward again, but his body language was more contemplative than commanding. "It's a good balance. I could use that. I've got some people still around, but things come up. I'd like to have a flexible team to call on."

"Us." Darcy frowned and thought about it. That's pretty much what they were for Coulson already. "Coulson has priority."

"Agreed," he said easily, but held up one finger. "Except in extreme circumstances."

"Like what?"

"How the hell should I know?" He asked with an exasperated wave of his hand. "I can't see the future."

"I knew a psychic once," Darcy said conversationally, latching onto the 'future' comment and changing the subject to buy some time to think about Fury's request. "She said I'd touch the stars, but not because I was among them, but because one day a star would fall from the heavens. It would change my world."

"Uhhuh." Fury rolled his eye and looked unimpressed.

"I liked her, but didn't buy it either," Darcy admitted. "And then Thor fell out of the sky."

"Sounds like a coincidence to me."

"Maybe. She also said, that I'd meet somebody I met when I was younger, but they wouldn't meet me until I was older. That we'd be backwards to each other." 

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Darcy shrugged. "I'll let you know if I ever figure it out."

"Anything else?" He asked, though it didn't sound like he really cared. 

Darcy looked away from him. She had never truly believed most of the things Madame Odette said, but when she met Thor, she replayed everything she could remember the woman told her. In retrospect some of those things were disturbingly accurate, even with the vagueness of some of the predictions and the benefit of hindsight. Phil insisted psychics didn't exist, but sometimes Darcy really wondered about Madame Odette. "'Be just and fear not'," she recited. 

"Well, that at least is good advice," Fury allowed with some reluctance.

"She really liked Shakespeare," Darcy murmured, half to herself.

"What's her name?"

"Madame Odette."

"Of course it is," Fury scoffed and poured himself another cup of coffee. 

"Put her on the index and I'll really be pissed," Darcy groused. Though the image of towering Fury meeting tiny, wispy Madame Odette, and the battle of wills that would result, was pretty entertaining. 

"If she's selling her crackpot _gift_ to people dumb enough to pay for it, I don't care," Fury said with a dismissive sniff. "So, and just to be clear, I'm asking not ordering: if I need you, can I count on you?"

Darcy chewed on her lower lip and glanced over at Bucky, who was watching her, blank-faced. She stood up. "Give us a minute."

"Take your time," Fury dismissed her and took a sip of his coffee. 

Darcy waved at Bucky to follow her into the back of the cabin, far enough from Fury that unless they started shouting the low hum of the airplane would obscure their voices. She sat on the couch there and he lowered himself down next to her. 

"What do you think?" He asked quietly. 

She quirked a smile at him. "I was going to ask you the same thing."

"Pretty much what we're doing already," he observed with a shrug, echoing her earlier thought. 

"Do you have a problem working for Fury?" She asked, curious if that might twist him up inside, or be too much to carry. 

"He should have a bigger problem working with me," Bucky told her in a distant voice, leaning forward, dropping his head away from the memory. 

She didn't want to press, but sometimes she thought she had to. He was so hard to read. "Do you remember shooting him?"

"Yeah. It was the first time I saw Steve. I didn't know him then, but there was _something_." He pressed a hand to his eyes and let out a long breath, his shoulders rising and falling with it. "I've got a lot to make up for. Maybe this will be a start."

Red in his ledger. How often had Natasha said that about her past? Darcy lifted her hand and hesitated for only a moment before resting it on Bucky's broad, solid back, offering comfort or support or whatever he needed that she could give. "We can take some time if you want to think about it."

"It's up to you, doll."

She protested immediately. "Okay, but if we're partners —"

"I'm willing," he said firmly. "So, it's up to you."

"Well, my history with him is mostly us yelling at each other." Bucky looked up from his hands and huffed a little laugh. "But, two of the people whose judgement I trust the most, think the world of that guy."

"So, maybe give him a chance?"

"Yeah," she sighed and pouted. "I guess so."

"Buck up, doll," he said lightly, nudging her leg with his. "I guess Coulson's one of the ones who thinks he's okay?"

"Yeah. I think Phil has a 'what would Fury do' bracelet hidden in his desk." When Bucky just gave her a puzzled look, she shook her head at herself. "Nothing. But, yes, Phil thinks highly of Fury. Respects him."

"Then, I say go with your gut and trust the Director."

"Gut says go for it," Darcy admitted. "I think … well, hell, I don't know what he's going to want from us. But, whatever it is, I don't doubt it will be for the right reasons." Twisting her lower lip between two fingers, she glanced out the window and watched the rippling, rugged land pass below them. "I joined SHIELD to help. To make a difference. To protect. I know that's why Fury does what he does, too."

"And SHIELD is yours," Bucky observed astutely. 

Darcy let go of her lip and turned back to him. "Not so much."

"Yeah, pretty much," he countered. "I can tell you feel responsible for how it goes. I've got things to make up for, you've got things you want to make right. This seems like a good way to put us where we need to be to do some of that."

She gave his back a pat, fortifying herself for saying 'yes' to Fury. "Okay, pal. Strike Team What the Hell is go."

"Strike Team What the Hell?" He repeated with a short, barked laugh. 

"Sure, it's got a ring to it, don't you think?"

"I think you don't get to name our team."

"Whatever." 

They both stood and walked back to their earlier seats. Fury gave her a bland look and waited. 

"Okay," she said, dropping into the chair, "you've got yourself one poli-sci grad-slash-astrophysicist's intern and one ex-Hydra POW-slash-assassin."

"Glad to hear it," he said, and it sounded like he meant it. 

Darcy watched him for a moment before asking. "Anything else you want to cover before you go _fishing_?"

"Nope," he said with a smile. 

"Okay. So, forty-five minutes of awkward silence?" Darcy guessed. She wasn't really sure how to make small talk with Nick Fury. 

"You got a deck of cards?" He suggested. "I play a mean hand of rummy."

With an amused smile — cards with Fury, sweet baby Thor — she stood again and headed to the galley. "I can do that."


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long.

Darcy took the driver's offered hand, climbed out of the hired car, tugged down the hem of her stupidly short, blood-of-her-enemies-red dress, and tried to look like she was ready to have a good time, not ready to strangle a guy for making her go to New Jersey in June. 

A sticky, damp breeze lifted up the ends of her hair, and she brushed a lock back, making sure the receiver behind her ear was still secured. New Jersey or not, overcoming the security in any casino was not just a challenge, but a herculean task. She might have the resources and the tech to get around the security, but any slip-up, a single second of lost focus, anything, would be disastrous, or, at the very least, super awkward to explain. And those heels weren't made for running. 

"Jesus, Atlantic City," she muttered, once she'd slipped the driver some cash and told him she'd call if she needed him again. "I still can't believe it."

"Not high class enough for you?" Bucky asked over the comm. 

"You say big-time German scumbag banker, I'm thinking Monaco. At least tell me he's playing baccarat."

"Looks like poker."

"Not even craps? What the hell is the point of this guy?" 

"Head in the game, Lewis," Bucky ordered, but he sounded amused. "Now, remember, you're a rich guy's daughter."

"I _am_ a rich guy's daughter."

Bucky made an inarticulate sound of exasperation. "And I don't think you've ever played that. So, remember you're a bored, spoiled, little rich girl who escaped daddy for the weekend, and you're looking for some fun."

"God," she murmured, stepping into the lobby and getting her bearings. "Relax. I've watched enough crappy reality TV. I've totally got this covered."

Bucky ignored her and continued, "Be hard to get, but you don't want to completely shoot him down. You're used to getting your way, but you're not too—"

"Barnes," she cut him off with a hiss. "Unless you want to do this, shut up."

"Just trying to help," he grumbled.

"And I appreciate it. But we've been through this like five times already. Relax." She stopped and pulled out her compact to check her hair, makeup, and the security in the area. 

"You look gorgeous, doll. Chin up, go get 'em."

Darcy put away her compact, made a quick adjustment to the girls in her dress, and smirked up at the cameras when Bucky drew in a sharp breath. Then she turned her steps to the high limit tables and looked for a likely game of Baccarat to jump in on — she was going to Bond it up, damn it. A pit boss gave her a nod as she passed, and she smiled back brightly, hoping she looked loaded and uninteresting. 

Finding a table, she sat and watched the game until it concluded, then she pulled a fat stack of cash from her purse and set it on the table with another empty, bright smile. "Can I get some chips, please?" 

Darcy's bank account was no joke, hell she could probably buy an island somewhere (okay, maybe half of a fairly small island), and she hadn't even come into her trust fund yet. Tony would periodically toss money into the account — he called it dividends from her share of the company. But, she really only drew on the account for basic day to day things — or to fund Bucky's Hydra hunting. 

Bucky was right, she'd never really played the role of rich guy's daughter. In matters financial, Darcy was a thrifty Lewis. Her grandparents, for example, saved their small bills and change in an old wooden box labeled 'funny money', and once a year they'd crack it open and splurge on a vacation. A few times a year her grandpa would buy out the contents of some old store or other, and the whole family would spend weeks going through the pile to find any treasures. Darcy knew the value of an old oil can, oh yes she did. So, the thought of dropping thousands at a casino made her stomach knot. 

Still, it was for a good cause. Anything to put some hurt on Hydra. If it would destroy them, she'd drain every account she had. 

Darcy played baccarat for a while, trying not to count cards. It was difficult to stop, kind of an automatic thing — the Stark gift and curse. It was why the casinos preferred when Tony played the craps table or roulette. And Bucky decided to help keep her distracted by rediscovering his chattiness at long last. 

"After this, I say we chuck all this spy stuff. Crazy damned life. We should open a bar in Brooklyn."

She bit her lips and made another bet. 

"Didn't you tell me once you bartended in college?"

She lost her hand and let out a long breath, then faked a 'oh gosh what a bummer' giggle. 

"Doesn't have to be fancy. A little neighborhood place somewhere."

For another half hour Bucky built his dream bar while she played baccarat poorly and lost enough money to give her hives. 

"Dart board. Gotta have that. And pool tables for sure. How are you at pool? Pretty good I bet."

Darcy collected her chips, tossed the dealer a tip worthy of a spoiled, rich girl who had no clue about money (her Lewis side moaned in agony), and got up to move over to the roulette table. 

Taking out her phone, she sent Bucky a text: _Holy shit, shut up, or I will hurt you. Somehow._

Bucky chuckled in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "Just trying to keep you relaxed."

She forced a smile for the benefit of anybody watching and replied: _Not working. Thought I was supposed to stay focused._

"You're taking your sweet time getting to Bader."

She rolled her eyes and put her phone away. She was getting into character, warming up to her role. Bucky could cool his jets. 

In no rush, she played the games, lost more than she won, smiled stupidly, accepted all the complementary drinks and faked drinking each, and moved ever closer to the poker floor. Bucky grumbled in her ear the whole time. Operational discipline? They were going to have a chat. Later. 

"The game's going cold on him," he warned after she'd played Blackjack for longer than he liked. "Get over there and warm it up already, before he leaves."

Darcy smirked, put a stupidly large stack of chips on a hand, and asked for a card. Finally, victory. "Oh my gosh," she squealed. "I can't believe I won!"

"You were counting cards, weren't you?" Bucky rumbled in her ear sounding like he wasn't sure if he was amused or irritated. 

Ignoring him, she gathered her chips and leaned over at the dealer. "I think I want to try poker next. I know rules can be different. Can I just join any table?"

"It's polite to ask the other players first," the woman told her with a patient smile. 

"Fabulous, thanks." Darcy tossed the woman a hundred dollar chip and finally made her way to the poker room Bader was occupying. 

Bader was at the table with another two players, one looked smug, one looked bored, Bader looked disgusted. He wasn't hard on the eyes — sort of a stockier, pudgier Richard Armitage. Of course, he was also evil; funny how quickly that made somebody profoundly unattractive. Bader tapped the table for a card, and then folded with a snarl. Darcy waited for the rest of the hand to play out — bored guy winning big — before approaching. 

"Hi, is this a private game? Do you mind if I join?"

The look of disgust faded off of Bader's face, replaced by a white-toothed smile as he subtly sized her up. Bored guy looked interested in her hemline, and smug guy looked like he didn't like the extra competition.

"Not at all," Bader told her in a smooth, surprisingly nondescript, European accent, standing to pull out a chair for her, "Please, join us, darling. Jurgen Bader."

"Courtney Santini. Charmed." She 'tee-heed' and placed her chips on the table before sitting. Bored guy (Carl) and smug guy (Niko) eyed the stack and she could see each of them calculating how quickly they could fleece her. And in Carl's case, how quickly he could take her money and get her to his room — he immediately waved over a waitress and offered to buy her a drink. Giving him a winsome smile, she asked for Mai Tai. Bader gave the man a hard look, but it melted back into debonair arrogance when he retook his seat next to Darcy. 

"Have you had much luck at the tables, darling?" He asked. 

She laughed and leaned towards him. "Not much, but I've had so much fun. I've never been to a casino before."

"Well, perhaps your luck will change, eh?"

Glancing at him from under her lashes she grinned. "That would be fun, too."

Bucky growled in her ear.

***

"Come on, come on," Darcy hissed and crossed the floor of the suite to crack open the door, peeking out into the hallway for some sign of Bucky. 

"Is there a problem, miss?" Damn it, she'd forgotten Bader's bullnecked bodyguard was just outside the door. For a hulking, Happy-sized dude, he was damned subtle. 

Tossing her hair, she let out a breathless, boozy giggle and shook her head. "Oh, gosh, no. I thought I heard room service." She tilted towards him, trying to look unsteady, and whispered. "We ordered champagne."

The man gave her a severe look, but forced it into a thin smile. "I will make sure room service makes its way to you."

"Oh, thank you." She cocked her head back to the room. "I think I hear Jurgen."

Shutting the door, she leaned against it for a moment and grumbled. "Come on, Bucky."

Creeping quietly across the room, she peeked into the bedroom to reassure herself that Bader was still unconscious. 

"Is he out?"

Darcy jumped with an embarrassing squeak and spun to glare at Bucky, and then glanced behind him to the open balcony door. "Yes, and did you _scale_ the building?"

"Just from the room below." He brushed past her into the bedroom. He poked Bader, but the man didn't twitch. "What did you hit him with?"

"My fist." Bucky blinked and stared at her for a moment. She crossed her arms, feeling defensive about punching out the banker scumbag. "What? He got handsy. It was an automatic sort of thing. Who knew he had a glass jaw?"

Stepping forward, he reached out and grabbed her hand. "Did you hurt yourself?"

She tried to tug it back but he wouldn't let go. "I'm fine. I know how to throw a punch."

He still insisted on checking her hand, prodding at the knuckles and stretching out her fingers, looking for breaks. The knuckles were a little red, but she really was fine, they probably wouldn't even bruise. When he was satisfied he let go. "Huh. Guess you do."

"Happy started teaching me how to box when I was like nine."

"Happy?"

"My dad's bodyguard. He used to be a prize-fighter."

He laughed and shook his head. "Damn. We could add a gym with a ring next to the bar."

"Dream big, Barnes." Darcy rolled her eyes while Bucky made for the guy's laptop bag. 

"This first," he shook the bag at her and pulled it open.

"What do you think I was doing while you were climbing the walls?" She picked up Bader's tablet from the coffee table. "The laptop's a dummy. He keeps all his important stuff on this. It never leaves his sight. Blah, blah, paranoid bad guy. I pulled everything off of it, and his phone, and his other drives."

Bucky let the bag fall back onto the floor and shrugged. "Well, hell, guess you didn't need me at all, huh?"

"Gee, who was going to whisper in my ear and make sure I lost twelve grand at the tables. Twelve grand, Barnes!" She put a hand to her chest and closed her eyes. "That hurt."

He smirked. "It was good for your cover."

"Ugh. See if I'll buy you a bar now." She handed him the tablet. "Take it or leave it?"

"You got everything, leave it." He pulled a case out of his jacket and opened it up, plucking a syringe and a dicey looking bottle from it. "Clean up your prints, I'll take care of Bader. What's the security situation on this floor?" He asked over his shoulder as he walked back into the bedroom and started rolling up one of Bader's sleeves. 

Darcy walked around the room, wiping off her prints. She'd been careful not to touch much when she came in — the glass she'd had with her, the door, Bader's computers, and the bedside table she'd had to brace herself on in order to hoist the rest of Bader's deadweight onto the bed. 

"Goons in the room next door," she reported as she cleaned. "Main goon in the hall outside. Goons at either end. I've got the program ready to kill the cameras whenever. I got Jarvis in a backdoor, too. He'll wipe any footage of me when we're gone."

"Handy." He inserted the syringe into the bottle and drew out a full measure of the sickly yellow concoction he'd brought along. He'd been pretty vague about what the stuff was. Only that it would help cover them. 

"Welcome to my dad's vision of the future. How long will that keep him out?" Darcy asked curiously, coming back over to watch Bucky insert the needle into the man's arm. 

"The rest of the night. And it'll make today pretty damned hazy."

"Instant sloppy drunk in a bottle. Handy."

Bucky shrugged. "It can have some nasty side-effects. But, maybe he'll get lucky."

"Yeesh," Darcy grimaced, but it was hard to feel sorry for Bader. 

"Your idea, doll. It's a Hydra special. If he survives, and figures out what it was—"

"Trouble in the ranks, I know." And that was the other part of the plan. They had no means to hold Bader, but if they could hit Hydra's accounts, drain them dry, and then make them think they'd done it to themselves, Darcy had big hopes for a dash of eating-their-own. There was enough uncertainty in Hydra now, it was a decent plan. If it got bad enough, she had her fingers crossed that Bader would run screaming to the nearest government for protection in exchange for information. Bucky'd just wanted to kill the guy, but Darcy persuaded him that Bader could be a big source of intel. If he, you know, survived. 

Bucky nudged the man again, he still didn't move, then he dropped the bottle and syringe into the trash can. "That it?"

"Yeah, I've got the phony accounts set up, I'll transfer from Bader's once I can get in."

"They can't be traced?"

Darcy rolled her eyes. "For the nineteenth time. No. They're not connected to anything at all. There's nothing to trace. We'll drain them through a dozen other accounts, and then, bam, Christmas in June for SHIELD. And if Hydra finds that, well, they can suck it."

"Merry Christmas," Bucky agreed. 

"I feel all Robin Hood," Darcy snickered. 

"Aright. Let's get out of here, doll. Give me a minute or two to clear the hall, and we'll split."

Darcy followed him to the door, watched him ready himself, watched the Winter Soldier fall over his shoulders like a grim shroud, then she pulled her own phone and nodded to him. "Looping the cameras now."

He nodded back and yanked the door open, barreling out like a human cannon ball. Bullneck probably never even realized what happened. Darcy cooled her heels, counting the seconds, listening for the sounds of anything going horribly wrong. All the while contemplating how Natasha could spend months on an op. She was ready for this to be over, and it had only been a few hours. Maybe she just didn't have the superhuman patience needed to pull it off. Even those few hours were stressful and exhausting. But, according to Natasha, this was the most dangerous part of the op — the end. This is when people got sloppy, when they wanted to hurry, wanted to finish and go home. This is when things were most likely to end in blood. Darcy made another circuit of the suite, making sure she'd gotten everything. 

There was a muffled thump from the door, followed quickly by a second, much harder thump. She waited a second before approaching the door slowly. Three quick raps followed and she wrapped a purloined handkerchief around her hand and pulled open the door, stepping out next to Bucky. 

His hair was flopping messily over his face but he smiled at her. "Wanna go stroll the casino again? Maybe win back some of your twelve Gs?"

"I think I had my fill of Atlantic City, thanks." She shut the door behind her, and looked for any bodies she'd have to step over, but Bucky'd cleaned up after himself. "Next time make it Monaco, pal."

"Sure thing, doll." He led her to the elevators and she pulled out her phone while they walked, giving Jarvis his command, setting the timer on the other programs she had. They had ten minutes to clear the building before the cameras blipped and restored. 

Once down in the lobby, Bucky threw his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to his side. "Look casual," he murmured. 

Leaning into him, she fake laughed up at him and he grinned back. Her stomach clenched with something that had nothing to do with end of op anxiousness. Oh, damn it, was she really falling for the super assassin? She'd tried so hard to pretend she wasn't. It was one thing to know she liked him, that he could even be a friend, but this was something that terrified her, honestly. And, maybe not surprisingly, it wasn't the super assassin part. Bucky was a man struggling to remember who he was, even a year later, he was … better. Better around her, at least. But, she was the only person he spent any time with. She'd been very resolved not to let herself get too far in while he was still so shaky in himself. 

However, as time went on, as he found little pieces of self again, as he seemed not just comfortable with her, but also, fond, it got more difficult to hold that distance. He chose to come to her. He asked her help. He sought her out. He smiled at her; that stupid, handsome smile that made him look so charmingly boyish. He joked with her. He got frustrated with her. They bickered. They went out for waffles. They fought Hydra. She pulled him out of Estonia, he found her in China. 

Darcy couldn't deny that she liked him, she really liked him, and she even liked the scary Winter Soldier parts of him. For all that he was broken, chipped away, bleeding from decades of cruelty, she was comfortable with him in a way she wasn't around many people. She'd told him things she'd never told anybody, not even Jane or Rico or Steve. Nothing big, just that tiny clutter of things that she kept packed away inside her head — little hurts, or little doubts, or little triumphs. In the quiet moments, long car rides across the country or long flights, it felt nice to have him there. In the moments when people were shooting, or things were blowing up, it was more than nice to have him there. 

Since the fall of SHIELD, she'd felt a new responsibility to the organization her grandfather'd left to her, even before Fury mentioned it, that latent idea had been there, building up in her heart and mind. But, she'd met Bucky just after the collapse, too. Two ground-shaking events, one on top of the other. Yes, she felt stronger, surer. This was what she was meant to do. This was her place, her job, her duty. To rebuild SHIELD. Once upon a time, Phil told her he needed her to save the world, and now she knew how. And she knew who'd help her do that. It felt right to have Bucky at her side. Felt right to fight next to him, to stand with him. Bucky Barnes was her partner. That was … fucking amazing. 

Anything else? Well, maybe she could let herself believe he was enough of himself now to know his own mind. But, she had plenty of doubts that weren't really about him, too. 

"You went awful quiet, doll," he muttered quietly, pulling her out of her thoughts and pausing to hold open the door for her. Once she was through and they hit the sidewalk, Bucky proved that his mama had raised him right and offered her his arm. 

"Gee, Barnes, a girl could get ideas," she said with a shake of her head, tucking her arm in his. 

"Yeah? I was starting to wonder what the hell it would take."

When she laughed this time there was nothing phony about it, and when he grinned she was pretty sure it wasn't an act. "I'm still not buying you a bar."

"No, it would be _ours_ ," he argued back with a smirk. "Partners."

She snorted and bumped his shoulder with hers. "No."

"I'll wear you down."

"Good luck, pal."

They made it back to the car without incident. Bucky took the driver's seat, while Darcy kicked off her heels and pulled out her phone so she and Jarvis could get to work on chewing through Hydra's financials. There were other accounts, other bankers, plenty of hidden things they couldn't touch, but this would hurt. It would hurt a lot. After about an hour, she left Jarvis to put the finishing touches on their monetary chicanery, and Darcy called in to May as promised. Being May, the conversation was brief and sharply to the point. Everything went fine, nobody could trace it to them, with luck Hydra would think they did it to themselves, and SHIELD would get a nice fat bonus within 48 hours. The end. Happy days all around. And whatnot. May seemed more or less satisfied. It was so hard to tell with her. 

With a promise to send a more detailed report in a few days, Darcy hung up, dropped her phone in her bag and leaned back in the seat with a sigh. 

"May says 'good job'," she reported to Bucky. 

Bucky gave an acknowledging grunt but kept his eyes on the road. Darcy let him drive while she thought and stared out the windshield to the clusters of glittering lights in the murky blue-purple dusk. If they were partners, there were things that needed to be done. She'd promised Coulson she'd make one of them a priority. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself. 

"I don't suppose I could persuade you to come in and talk to Bruce, could I?" She asked. 

Startled, Bucky shot her a quick look. "Why?"

"I'd feel better if I knew what Hydra did to you. Bruce can check you over."

He turned back to the road and was silent for a long moment before finally saying, "I don't know."

Oh, she so wasn't up for a round of 'I don't know'. "I'm pretty sure he's the only one there. Dad and Pepper are in California for a few more weeks. I think Clint's back from Dubai, but he's off doing whatever Clint does. I honestly still have no idea where Natasha is."

"Steve?"

"He wasn't there yesterday."

He huffed a small laugh through his nose. "Thought Avengers were your job."

"I don't helicopter parent." She leaned down and pulled her phone back out of her bag. "Hey Jarvis? Who's in the Tower now? Avengers, I mean."

"Thor and Doctor Foster have returned from Asgard, they are currently in his quarters. Doctor Banner is in his lab. All others are out and not expected back this evening. Captain Rogers did leave you a message — he's sorry he missed you, he and Mr. Wilson will be away for the next week, but he promises to call you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jarvis." She turned the phone absently in her hand and slid a glance over to Bucky. "Well? Thor and Jane won't bother you. They reserve that for me exclusively. And Bruce is really low-key for also being the Hulk."

"You really want me to do this, don't you?"

"I really do," she confirmed quietly but firmly.

"Afraid I'm going to snap and go at you?" He asked, his voice tinged with an edge of bitterness and something that might have been self-loathing.

"I'm concerned for you, not afraid of you," she shot back and turned her gaze out the window again. "I don't know what Hydra did to you. _You_ don't know what Hydra did to you." She took a steadying breath and peeled off a layer of her own personal emotional armor to force the next words out of her mouth, "I need to know you're okay."

"I'm not okay," he muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear. 

"Physically okay," she corrected. "The other stuff … well, I don't know what will make that at all okay, but you're not alone."

"Yeah."

"I mean it, Bucky."

He tossed her a crooked smile. "I know you do, doll."

"Partners look after each other. Or so I'm told," she pressed. 

"Yeah."

"I mean, if it was me—"

He let out a breath and shook his head. "I'd strap you to the exam table myself."

"Wouldn't it be hilarious to see you try?" She commented mildly.

He glanced away from the road again, amusement pulling at his lips. "You think I couldn't?"

"In this scenario, I'd be the super assassin, so …" She shrugged with modesty but gave him a smug look. 

"Now that's a hell of a picture," he said with a snort.

"Admittedly, it looks better on you."

Laughing, a low, deep rumbling chuckle that did not at all help her equilibrium when it came to him. "I think you used the word 'hobo' to describe me once."

"I'm pretty sure what I actually said was 'hobo chic'."

"Right, much better."

"You don't have to stay. I mean you're always welcome—"

"Love to hear what your pops has to say about that."

"— but I won't be offended or anything if you go back to your shithole. I mean, _apartment_. Also, dad can suck it up and deal." She laughed a little and leaned her head against the window. "Besides, it's always smarter to be more afraid of Pepper."

Darcy let the car fall into silence, let him take the time he needed to think through the idea and let him work himself up to it. Things like this were always such a downward spiral for him. He got tense and regressed. Pushing right this very moment, when he hadn't had a chance to process and consider, was the worst thing she could do. Silence was a better, if unnatural choice for her. Darcy couldn't imagine how stressful it was for him to consider going to the Tower, or even just to be around new people, but she could certainly see the effects. 

"Just Banner," he said after a moment.

"Just Bruce," she agreed, lifting her phone and sending a quick text to Bruce to expect them, followed by a message to Jarvis, pleading with him to not tell Jane she was back until after Bucky'd left. Then she took a deep breath, feeling a swell of both triumph and trepidation. She'd promised Steve she'd get Bucky to the Tower, and she was pretty sure they'd both survive the evening. Maybe. But a new dread filled her. 

Dear God, please let Bruce say Bucky was okay.


	18. Chapter 18

Bucky entered the Tower willingly enough, was fine in the parking garage, fine in the lobby, balked like a spooked horse at the elevators. 

Chewing on her lower lip, Darcy leaned back against the wall of the private elevator bank, giving him a little bit of breathing room. If he wasn't okay to go upstairs, she wasn't going to try to force him. Honestly, she was surprised he'd even agreed to come in the first place; they could try another day. She watched him as he stood rigidly, clenching and unclenching his fists. He was frustrated, that was clear enough. 

"Wanna split? Go to the diner, get some dinner?" She offered. "I could totally go for a plate of zucchini sticks." 

Bucky shook his head sharply and stared at the elevator like it was a Hydra boss he was going to take down. Just as soon as he could make his feet move. 

"How can I help you?"

He licked his lips and set his jaw, staring down at his feet. Growling softly to himself, he waved a hand at the call button. "Get it here."

She hit the button and the door opened. With another growl, he stepped forward into the car and turned, crossing his arms. She followed and selected the floor for the Avengers' level. 

"Welcome to Avengers' Tower, Sgt. Barnes," Jarvis greeted, his tone modulated to a precisely even degree. While she'd warned Bucky before even entering the Tower that the AI was omnipresent, she was pleased to see he didn't flinch. 

Bucky dipped his head in acknowledgement, but after a moment seemed to realize he should respond verbally. Taking a steadying breath, he said, "Thanks, uh, Jarvis." He shot a look at Darcy and she smiled and nodded encouragingly. "Thanks for your help today."

"Of course, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you. Darcy and Captain Rogers speak highly of you, sir."

Having used up his words, Bucky nodded again and stared at the shiny doors. 

"Jarvis," Darcy said, taking over the conversation, "is Bruce ready for us?"

"He's waiting for you in the medical lab."

"Good. And Jane?"

"Asleep. She claims there's a Bifrost-lag. Though she did ask that I wake her on your return."

Darcy grimaced, but couldn't help the exasperated little laugh. Jane always insisted that Darcy check in with her whenever she got back from any sort of SHIELD outing, so that astrophysicist could see for herself that her intern was still in one piece. It was nice, of course, but not optimal at the moment. "Not until after we've seen Bruce, please." It would do no good to just let her sleep, she'd wake in a panic at 3 a.m. or something anyway. But, Bucky surely wasn't up to Jane's hovering, and with Jane came Thor, so … "Please."

"Of course, Darcy."

"Thanks, J."

"Sgt. Barnes, please feel free to call on me should you require anything while you're here."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly. "Thanks."

Jarvis fell silent, leaving them alone in the elevator. 

"You're not trapped," Darcy told him, voice pitched low. "You can leave any time you want. Nobody will stop you, nobody will be upset."

"Don't handle me," he growled back. 

She shrugged and watched the numbers light as they rose. "I'm just saying."

Letting out a harsh breath through his nose, Bucky tried to get his shoulders to relax. "Sorry."

Darcy gave him a startled look and shook her head. "Christ, don't _apologize_."

They were quiet for another second or two before he asked, "What's he going to think about me?"

"Who? Bruce?" Bucky nodded. "How do you mean?"

"I'm the Winter Soldier." He wasn't looking at her, his gaze was fixed rigidly on the doors. Darcy could see his hard, distant stare in the reflection. 

"And he's the Hulk," she pointed out. "Sounds to me like a match made in a very destructive part of heaven." 

Bucky huffed a small laugh, but Darcy caught the tension returning to his shoulders and his fists clenching and unclenching. 

"Bruce won't judge. People have tried to use him as a weapon. He's been hunted across the whole damned world, and he's got a few demons, too. I mean, okay, he's also got a weird sense of humor, but he's my favorite guy."

"I thought that was Coulson."

"Don't tell Bruce," she begged him with a smirk. 

Bucky chuckled a little and forced his hands to relax. Shooting her a small, dry smile, he noted, "You've got quite a collection."

"Lucky me, right?" She said, waggling her eyebrows at him. "Look he won't do anything you're not okay with. I promise."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't trust you."

"Good, so try to relax a little." She risked reaching out a hand and putting it on his forearm. "Partners, right? I've got you."

He made an effort, his shoulders dropping a bit, though the tension was still evident in the straightness of his spine. However, once the elevator dinged and the door slid open, he wound-up tight again, not hesitating, he stepped out of the elevator and stalked forward into the medical suite like a tiger on the hunt. Darcy eyed him skeptically but followed. Whatever he needed to do to get his head where he could sit for an exam, well, she'd just let him do his thing. It wasn't like he was going to spook Bruce, anyway. 

"Bruce?" She called. 

Bruce stuck his head around a bank of monitors and smiled his always hesitant half-smile. "Hi, Darcy. How was your thing?"

"Uneventful."

Bucky made a sound and shook his head. "She punched a guy out," he said in a low, barely audible mutter, but Bruce's eyebrows shot up. 

"Glass jaw," she explained and waved a hand at Bucky. "Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner. Bruce, Bucky." She paused. "Wow, alliteration."

Bruce made an amused sound and stepped forward, pulling off his glasses to fiddle with them. "Sgt. Barnes, it's nice to meet you."

"Doctor Banner."

"So, uh, I know a little bit about your situation, both from what Darcy's told me, but also from what we've been able to glean from the SHIELD/Hydra files."

Bucky shrugged uncomfortably and shifted his weight. "I don't remember a lot."

"No, no. That's, uh, that's understandable." Bruce offered him a crooked, self-deprecating smile. "I kinda know how that is. How about if we start with a physical and go from there?"

Bucky nodded and stepped forward, while Darcy watched the two men. It seemed peaceable enough. 

"I'll just wait outside," Darcy said.

"No," Bucky replied quickly. "I mean, it's fine."

"Whatever you're comfortable with," Darcy said with a shrug; they'd do this however he wanted. 

"If it doesn't bother you," he admitted, still sounding a little on edge. 

Darcy grinned and dropped down onto a stool, and propped her elbows on a lab table. "Hey, who haven't I seen half-naked? Hell, on laundry day even Jane goes full amazon."

Bucky shot her an exasperated look, but she just smiled back. Shaking his head, Bruce pulled forward a rolling medical tray and started sorting through the instruments.

"If you wouldn't mind taking your shirt off, Sergeant," he said, picking up the blood pressure cuff. "And, I'd like to draw some blood, too, if that's okay. I have your labs from Jemma Simmons, but I'd like to run a few more tests."

"Yeah," Bucky muttered as he shucked his jacket and pulled off his t-shirt. He glanced at Darcy with a look that may have been self-consciousness, but it wasn't like this was the first time she'd be seeing him without his shirt. It wasn't even the third time. On their road trip, he'd repeatedly played the nasty little trick of trying to throw her off balance by ditching his shirt. But, she supposed, there was a difference between being irritatingly flirty Bucky, and being poked and prodded to discover what other horrors Hydra'd subjected him to. Still, she just smiled back, and gave him a very obvious once over. How the tables have turned, Barnes. He rolled his eyes and climbed up onto the exam table. 

Bruce went through the routine of the physical, bypassing the impressive prosthetic until after he'd finished and drawn several vials of blood. Bucky seemed comfortable enough with her there, but she couldn't just stare at him the whole time. He wasn't hard to look at, but it felt intrusive, and was, frankly, boring. She activated the monitor in front of her and set her jaw; this seemed as good a time as any to update his file on the enhanced index. God almighty, she hated that thing, but Phil would pester her until she did it and she refused to let somebody else touch it. Grabbing the details from the digital file Bruce was building as he went, she added stats to the file, and filled in the blanks with as much useless bureaucrat-speak as she knew — and she was a poli-sci grad, so she knew a hell of a lot. It would all be technically correct, but she'd obfuscate like the champ she was — it was her own little protest. 

Once Bruce finished with his exam, and moved everything to one side, he turned to the arm at last, touching the back of Bucky's hand. "Do you mind?"

"No."

Bruce picked up the hand, turning it much as Darcy'd done the first time she saw it. He gingerly examined the scar tissue around the shoulder. "Any pain?"

"No. Mostly numb."

Bruce nodded and bent Bucky's arm up and down, and had him raise it above his head, while he watched the connecting tissue closely. After a few moments he frowned and pushed his glasses further up his nose, bending forward to more closely examine the simulated musculature of the arm itself. The movement caught Darcy's eye and she focused her attention on the pair. 

"Darcy?" He asked after a moment. 

"Yeah."

"Could you come here and look at this?"

Bucky tensed on the table. "Is there a problem?"

"Oh, no, no," Bruce hurried to assure him. "Sorry. It's just …" He glanced up as Darcy came to stand next to him, and bit his lips. "This looks familiar. Sergeant, could you clench and unclench your fist a few times? Darcy watch the forearm."

Darcy leaned forward and watched the smooth ripple of metal plating bunching and relaxing. It was her turn to frown. She'd been fascinated when she first saw the hand, but she'd never pushed for a closer study of the arm. "Do that again." Bucky complied and Bruce watched her out of the corner of his eye. 

"Son. Of. A. Bitch," Darcy spat out each word and stepped back, feeling sick and furious. Clenching her own fists, she snarled at nothing and started to pace. "Son. Of. A. Bitch."

"What?" Bucky asked, looking alarmed. 

Pointing a finger at his arm, she growled, "Stark Tech. That is fucking Stark Tech." She looked at Bruce. "Right?"

"You'd know better than me. But, the flexible plating looks familiar."

"Yeah, because my dad uses it on his armor." She brought a hand up to her face and rubbed it roughly across her mouth. "Mother fucker. Dad is going to go ballistic." Darcy snorted loudly and pressed the hand to her forehead. "Oh hell, dad nothing, I'm going to go ballistic."

Bucky pulled his arm back into his body and looked like maybe he wanted to bolt. Darcy caught the look and stilled her pacing, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "It just means Obie was as big of an evil son of a bitch as I thought. Well, Jesus, he sold weapons and tech to terrorists, he tried to have dad murdered, then ripped the reactor out of his chest. What's a little double dealing with Hydra? Son of a bitch." 

Even when she'd found out Obie'd been behind Tony's disappearance, she'd just felt sick and horrified. The anger had grown in her over the years, building in increments, she'd told her dad it gave her a real insight into the Hulk, and now she wanted nothing more than to smash the hell out of something. Out of everything.

"I'm sorry he's dead," she continued. "I'd like to give him a couple hours with Natasha and then kill him myself."

He had to have known where the tech was going, who and what it was for. Did he get some sick jollies knowing it was Bucky they'd turned into a weapon? Bucky they'd probably turned on Howard? Had he reveled in the evil, twisted symmetry? 

"Darcy?" Bruce called softly. 

"What?" Her hands were shaking and glanced up to see the two men watching her warily. That made her laugh, a slightly lunatic laugh. But, God, the Winter Soldier and the Hulk looking like they were wondering if they should duck and cover. "Sorry, sorry … I just … son of a sucking pouch weasel."

Bucky choked on a laugh and even Bruce smiled a little. 

"If you want to go beat up a dummy in the gym, I'd understand," Bruce told her with a wry twist to his lips. 

"Yeah, no, I'm okay. I mean, yes, later, I will beat the crap out of a dummy, but, no, I'm fine." She took a deep breath and focused on steadying her hands. "Perfectly fine." 

"Okay," Bruce agreed easily. 

"Bucky, can we have Jarvis run a scan on your arm?" She pleaded, desperate for him to say yes. "Now I really need to know there are no ugly surprises in the cybernetics."

"Yeah, doll, that's fine," he assured her in a soft, even voice, taking his turn at calming his wild-eyed partner. 

Bruce cleared his throat. "I'd like to do x-rays and a CT scan, too." He smiled a little. "We'll skip the MRI."

At Bucky's puzzled frown, Darcy laughed again, the breath leaving her lungs and taking some of the anger with it. "Magnetic Resonance Imaging, metal arm. Funny until things start sparking and going up in flame."

"Your sense of funny's off," Bucky told her with a shake of his head. "Maybe you should be the one sitting here."

Bruce sighed and shook his head. "Starks."

"Sometimes …," Bucky started hesitantly, glancing between the pair of them before looking down at the floor. "Sometimes I think I remember Howard. Him laughing and then shit blowing up." Raising his head, he cocked an eyebrow at Darcy. "Guess maybe those are real memories." 

With a genuine, unself-conscious chuckle, Bruce stepped away from the exam table and gathered up his equipment. "Sounds about right."

"Alright, alright, jokers," Darcy grumbled. "Go do your scanning things while Jarvis and I set up." She wandered back over to the lab table and grumbled with every step. The rage was fading, sort of, and she felt pretty good about Bucky and Bruce seeming to be sort of comfortable around each other — even if only to brace themselves while she teetered on the edge of going full Stark. Shaking it off as well as she could, she and Jarvis ran through a list of diagnostic scans they would try on the arm, and then she took out the residual anger on the index file, unleashing the full power of her obfuscatory skills. Phil would probably make her rewrite it, but she really didn't give a damn right then. 

It was a good half an hour before Bruce and Bucky returned. "I'm not really a neurologist," Bruce was telling him, "but I've uploaded the scans. And it will take me a day or two to go through everything." 

Bucky nodded and sat back down on the edge of the exam table. 

"I've got a friend who's doing remarkable work on tissue grafting and regeneration," Bruce continued. "We can probably clean up a lot of that scar tissue around the arm. That'll give you a better range of motion, I think."

"It's not so bad," Bucky muttered. 

Bruce frowned at him and bowed his head. "Sure, well, your call. Let me know if you change your mind." 

"Anything else, Bruce?" Darcy asked.

"Well," he sighed and shot a look at Bucky before looking down again and walking over to a monitor. "I don't want to make any pronouncements until I've had a chance to spend some time with things."

"But?" She prompted. 

Bruce gave her a half-frustrated half-irritated look, then looked over at Bucky again. "But, I did see evidence of some past brain damage. That probably accounts for some of your memory problems. I need to do some research, and, with your permission, contact a friend or two. You'll be an anonymous patient. But, some people," he gave Darcy another look, "forget I'm a physicist."

"Sorry," Darcy apologized with a grimace. "Do you want me to leave for this?"

Bucky shook his head and Bruce took that as his consent to continue. "Any headaches, migraines, blurred or double vision? Anything like that?"

"No. Steve …" Bucky rubbed at his forehead and sighed. "Steve used to get migraines. I don't get anything like that."

"Short term memory problems?"

"I don't think so."

"What did you have for breakfast?"

"Eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, coffee."

Bruce nodded and tapped some notes into Bucky's file. "I'm sorry to have to ask you this, but do you remember any part of the procedure Hydra used on you?"

Bucky drew a deep breath and stared down at his knees. Darcy winced. She hated this part. 

"A chair. They'd give me a mouth piece, this … thing would go around my head. Then … hard to explain." His hands clenched into fists and he took a long, slow breath before he continued. "Like colors, pain, buzzing through my head. Then nothing. I mean, it goes jumbled, it's hard to put anything together after that. It was like fog, but full of things. I told Darce, sometimes there are things that make my head shake, like a joy buzzer, you know? It's hard to hold onto a thought."

"Even now?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah. Steve." Bucky chewed on his lip for a second. "And there are some memories of things I did. But, they don't always go together. And they're, I don't know, empty, I guess. Cold, I just did them."

Bruce's jaw clenched and he looked up at the ceiling, taking several deep breaths of his own. Darcy watched them both, ready to call for Thor if Bruce started to go green. 

"They'd do that often?" Bruce asked at last. 

"I guess," Bucky mumbled. "When I went out, when I came in. I don't remember. Just cold, numb, the only thing I felt was pain when they'd …" He trailed off with a shrug. 

Bruce's nostrils flared and his hand on the edge of the table tightened until the knuckles turned white. Darcy pulled up a terminal window and let her fingers hover over the keyboard, ready to type in a command to Jarvis. "But something got through?"

"Steve. When he called me Bucky. I didn't remember, but I knew him. It's the first thing I remember knowing in a long time."

Bruce took another breath and pulled off his glasses, twisting them in his fingers. Darcy swore she saw a flash of green in his eyes before he turned away and typed something into Bucky's file. Licking her lips, she sent a quick message to Jarvis to have Thor come down and wait outside. Just in case. Bruce would try to warn them, but, well, she'd come close enough to meeting the Hulk once, she didn't want a repeat. 

"That's good," Bruce managed after a few long, long seconds. He glanced over at Darcy. "You and Natasha both thought it wasn't permanent."

"One of the first things Bucky told me was the Steve liked brunettes." She gave them both an encouraging, hopefully calming smile. "That was a pretty random, yet specific thing to remember. Like one of those core things you just know. They couldn't wipe that and if they couldn't get rid of that, of all things, then other stuff had to still be there." Darcy nodded to Bucky. "You were still there. Whatever else they took, they had to keep doing it because _you were still there_. A strong enough memory, Steve saying your name, and the hold broke."

Bruce nodded and offered a thin smile. "Well, I'm not a neurologist, but I think that sounds right. They had to resort to extreme measures for control. So," he took another moment to steady himself, "I don't think we have to worry too much about their usual activations. Be cautious, but, if it was going to work, I assume they would have tried by now. Whatever happened, Sergeant, you didn't go down easily," Bruce told him, meeting his eyes with a fierce certainty and a respectful nod.

Bucky nodded back, but muttered quietly, "Took long enough to break, though."

"I bet it happened before," Darcy put in. "You wouldn't remember, they'd make sure. And maybe the trigger wasn't as strong as seeing your life-long bestie again, but I bet it did happen before." 

"Maybe."

"Darcy's probably right," Bruce said.

"I usually am," she said with false modesty, tossing him a smirk. 

Bruce gave her a long-suffering look, but he seemed calmer, so she was unrepentant. 

"Alright," he said with a sigh. "I'm done for now. I might have more tests after I go through everything. Darcy, we can start on the scan of his prosthetic."

"Okay." She hopped down off the stool and walked over to Bucky. He was putting up with a lot more than she expected he would. "You ready? Non-invasive. So, you know, shouldn't be a big deal."

He gave her a steady look, then laughed a little and sat back. "Do what you gotta do, doll." 

Darcy pulled over a rolling table and set his arm on it, then set about placing sensors and probes in the areas she and Jarvis felt where the best places to start to get a picture of the arm's structure and systems. They were guessing, mostly. 

"Jarvis?"

"Extrapolating a model of the prosthetic," he reported, and a wireframe model began to take shape on the monitor in front of Darcy. 

"Wow," she breathed and shook her head. "That's a hell of a design. I mean, I knew it from just looking, but still …"

Bruce leaned over her shoulder, taking his own look at the model, and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Sergeant, compared to your other hand, how much sensation do you have in the prosthetic?"

"Not as much," he admitted, but didn't seem bothered, "but it's not bad. Temperature, pressure, if something's rough or not, you know."

"Pain ever?"

"No."

"So there's a threshold," Bruce muttered and Darcy shrugged. 

"Why make a super arm if it's going to hurt to punch somebody?" She asked philosophically. Both Bruce and Bucky looked at her. "What? It's only practical."

Bruce shook his head and pointed to a spot on the monitor, a white, rectangular shape near the shoulder joint. "Nerve cluster maybe?"

"Attempting to resolve the area," Jarvis acknowledged. "I've identified a port on the inside of the forearm. I believe I can get a more thorough scan of the cybernetic systems through there."

"You okay with that?" Darcy asked Bucky. 

He was more relaxed now that they were through the other parts of the exam; the arm didn't ever seem to bother him much. How weird, though, to fall unconscious with a flesh arm and wake up with a metal one. Maybe he was doing better, but this seemed to Darcy evidence of his continuing lack of self-care — his body was a functional weapon, not the stuff of humanity. She didn't need him to be weepy over the arm or anything, but she kind of thought maybe people needed time and a chance to deal with something like that. But, perhaps on the scale of his traumas, that was minimal. He had an arm, it worked, what else was there to say? Maybe it would end there, or maybe this is something that would bite him on the ass somewhere down the line. So hard to say. 

"Yeah, do it," he agreed. 

Darcy felt around the inside of Bucky's arm near the elbow, and found a catch in the plating. Prying it up with a fingernail and pushing it aside revealed a small port. There was no easy way to get at the wiring to hook up Jarvis, but she could probably find something that would work. "Okay, give me a minute, I'm going to have to run to dad's workshop for a couple things."

"I will continue my scan and map an approach for detailed analysis," Jarvis said. 

Darcy nodded absently and looked up at Bucky. "Like two minutes, okay?"

"Stop worrying, I'm fine." He gave her a crooked smile. "Mother hen."

"Whatever, Barnes." She huffed but gave his metal fingers a squeeze before turning and leaving the room. 

Outside, she ran into Thor lounging against the wall with a book in his hand and Mjölnir propped against his leg. She'd totally forgotten she called him. 

"Darcy," he greeted, straightening. "Is all well?"

"I'm so sorry. I forgot I called you down. Everything's fine now."

"Banner is calm?"

"Yeah, it's okay. He just …" she sighed. "I brought Bucky Barnes in."

"The Captain's lost friend?"

"Yeah," she waved at him to follow her and headed for the workshop. "He's been through some bad stuff. Like really bad. It makes me angry; hell, it'd make anybody angry. Bruce just got a little tense for a couple minutes." 

"I see," Thor rumbled quietly. "Is Barnes injured?"

"No. I just want to make sure Hydra doesn't still have a hold on him. He's got a metal arm, I don't trust that they didn't put some sort of, I don't know, kill switch or something in it." They entered the workshop and Darcy made a beeline for the wall of parts. Hundreds of tiny boxes full of anything a crazy, mad genius engineer could ever hope to need. 

"That seems a sensible precaution," Thor agreed, leaning against the bench to watch her search. "You are agitated."

"They hurt him for decades, Thor. They made him do awful things. So, yeah, agitated's a word for it." She started pulling open drawers and digging through the contents. "And then we're just poking at his arm like it's some science project. I just …" She flapped a hand towards Thor, words failing her. 

"You have explained to him why you are examining his arm, I presume."

"Well, yeah," she pulled open another drawer and rifled through the tiny jacks. None of them were going to work. Damn it, she was going to have to cobble something together. 

"Then be easy, my friend," Thor said evenly. "He is a warrior, he understands. I'm certain of it."

"You don't know him," she grumbled, pulling out a wire and starting a search for a viable connector. 

"True, but I do know you. I know how you care for your friends," Thor argued back, unperturbed by her grousing. "And if he is your friend, then he knows you are only making certain he is well. You may sport with us, but you do not treat us as playthings. Be easy, my friend," he said again. 

"Right, you're right." She let out a long breath and pulled another couple parts, dumping them on the work bench and grabbing goggles and turning on the soldering iron. 

Thor leaned forward to watch her work. "Do you need assistance?"

"No, it'll just take a minute." She steadied herself, and bent to her task. 

Thor watched for a while in silence before asking, "If Barnes is amenable, I would like to meet him when you have finished your examination."

Darcy looked up and met his sincere gaze. "I'll ask him. Don't take it wrong if he doesn't want to, though."

"I shall not," he shook his head. "As you've said, he has been through much, but I would like to know the man both you and Steven call friend. But, it will come in time."

Darcy finished her work and put up the iron and pulled off the goggles. "You're a good guy, Thor."

He grinned at her. "Thank you. Have you what you need?"

"Yep."

"Then let us return. I shall continue to wait until you're done," he said as he followed her out of the room. "But, do have Jarvis inform me if Barnes would wish to be alone, and I will leave as you finish."

"Will do."

In the med bay, Bruce was looking a 3D projection of the arm, and Bucky was craning his neck to see around him. Geeks, Darcy laughed to herself. 

Bucky looked up as she approached. "You ready to do this?"

"Yep." She wired up his arm, only cursing a little bit when the connection wasn't as tight as she wanted. She fixed it down as well as she could with medical tape. "Give it a try, Jarvis. But, go easy."

"Understood," the AI confirmed. They watched and waited while Jarvis cracked into the arm's systems. 

Fifteen minutes later, he spoke again, "I have mapped the systems. There is one area of concern." A small section, near the nerve cluster, flashed red on the projection. "This chip appears connected to both the arm's functional systems and the neural grafting."

"And?" Darcy prompted impatiently. "What is it?"

"Unknown. The chip itself appears dormant. It is not actively processing, nor is there any output. However, a small piece of associated code," a long, scrolling stream of code ran down one side of the projection, "appears to contain an override to the arm's function."

"So a kill switch," Darcy said. She's suspected as much.

"Unknown," Jarvis repeated. "The connection to the neural grafting is concerning. I will continue my analysis."

"Can we remove it?" Bruce asked. " Will it interfere with anything if we do take it out? You said it's dormant."

"Unknown. It is currently in 'passive' mode. It offers no obvious functionality," Jarvis reported. "Removal, however, would be an intensive and invasive process."

Chewing on her lower lip, Darcy looked over at Bucky who was staring again at the model. "Bucky, what do you think?"

He shrugged. "Can you kill it? Short it out or something?"

"I would recommend a more thorough analysis of its connections with your neural system before determining the best course of action."

Bucky sighed and dropped his head. "How long?"

"Analysis is projected to take one hour and four minutes."

"An hour?" Bucky grimaced, sounding like the last thing he wanted was another hour in the med lab. 

"I have downloaded all data, and no longer require a connection," Jarvis informed him. 

Darcy let out a relieved breath of her own, smiled, and slapped Bucky companionably on the shoulder. "Let's get out of here for an hour. I'm starving, we can go up to the kitchen and grab dinner."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Sounds good," he agreed and held out his arm for her to remove the wires. Then he picked up his shirt and pulled it back on. She made a point of rolling up the wires and sensors while not watching the play of muscle across his chest. 

"Bruce, you want to come?" Darcy asked. 

"No, thank you" he said absently, looking back and forth between the monitor and the arm projection. "I'll get started on the lab work."

Darcy stepped back and let Bucky hop off the exam table. "Oh, one thing, I ran into Thor. He'd like to meet you, but he'll understand if you're not in the mood."

Bucky looked hesitant for a moment, tired, but then he snorted. "You talk about him enough, might as well." 

"That's the spirit," she told him dryly as she led him out of the room. 

In the hall, Thor was back lounging against the wall with his book and his hammer. He pushed off when they came out and grinned broadly. 

"Thor Odinson, Bucky Barnes," Darcy introduced them. 

"Well met, soldier," Thor pronounced, sticking out his hand. 

"Uh, yeah, good to meet you," Bucky said quietly, reaching for Thor's hand, but the Asgardian bypassed it for his favored forearm grasp. 

"Darcy does not often bring friends here," Thor said, his eyes scanning Bucky's face, one warrior evaluating another. 

"That's because most of my friends are already here. Or, you know, running from Johnny Law," Darcy said, and started them towards the stairs to the common floor. 

Ignoring her, Thor continued to address Bucky. "Jane assures me Rico is real, but occasionally I have my doubts. I have never seen a hint of him. Why keep him from us?"

"He was here like two weeks ago," Darcy protested. "It's not my fault you and Jane were off doing whatever."

"I've seen him," Bucky said suddenly. "Rico. He seemed real." 

Darcy gave him a baleful look. "Did you stalk Rico? Don't stalk Rico."

"I didn't _stalk_ him. I watched you, in California," he said firmly, but looked a little abashed. 

"Ah, right." She remembered his creepy lurking in the bushes. Well, she assumed he was in the bushes. "How long?"

"Just a couple days. I was still trying to figure you out," he admitted.

"And if you could trust me," she observed astutely. 

"Yeah, sorry, doll."

"Darcy is most worthy of trust," Thor interjected, his voice taking on a tight edge of warning.

"It's okay, Thor," Darcy hurried to sooth him. "We'd only met once before. He didn't know me."

"And I agree," Bucky said, his own tone sharp and hard, looking Thor in the eye. "She's worth trusting."

They considered each other for a moment before Thor nodded once and his grin returned. "Come, tell me how you met, and I shall tell you my own tale."

"Thor," Darcy said, laughing.

"I learned quickly," he continued, waving them both ahead of him up the stairs, "not to underestimate this one."

"Seems like a big mistake," Bucky agreed, nodding amiably.

"Indeed. I felt her wrath for days."

"It wasn't wrath," she exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

Thor gave Bucky a solemn look. "Wrath it was, indeed."


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it! Thanks for your support, everybody.

With beer and leftovers, Thor, Bucky, and Darcy sat around the kitchen table while they waited for Jarvis to complete his scan of the systems in Bucky's prosthetic/cybernetic arm. 

Bucky looked a little shell shocked as he picked at his meatloaf, while Thor gestured grandly, and Darcy snickered into her Mongolian Beef.

"And hard on my exile," Thor said, voice low in the even cadence of his story-telling, "I found myself in the blackest night, my strength diminished, knocked from my senses by a great metal beast."

Bucky took a long draw from his beer and shot Darcy a confused look. 

"I hit him with the van. Though, Jane was navigating, so it was totes her fault," she clarified. 

"Twice Jane struck me thusly," Thor noted with an absurd grin, because only to him would those be love taps. 

Darcy pointed her fork at him. "Yeah, you were literally smitten."

"Indeed," he said with ready agreement. "I stood not a chance."

"You smote each other pretty good," Darcy noted dryly. "I think you both forgot I existed for a while there."

"Believe me, my friend, I felt the wrath of your lightning for two days." Thor gave Bucky a nod that said 'you know what I'm talking about'.

Bucky didn't, though. In fact he looked completely lost, his lips twisted in confusion. "Lightning?"

"Oh yes," Thor pulled himself back to his tale. "So, there stood I, alone, diminished, in that black night. My head still reeling from the encounter with the metal beast. What should a man want in those unknown, dangerous circumstances? I sought in vain for my hammer." He patted Mjölnir fondly. "I called for her, but she did not come. I was bewildered and now found myself surrounded, in that fraught night, by those unknown to me. What threat would they present?"

"Me, Jane, and Erik. Yeah, we were terrifying," Darcy commented with a snort.

Thor gave her a look and raised his chin to continue, "And in response to my desperate search, this one," he waved a hand at Darcy, "offered me only cheek. Never had one spoken thus to a prince of Asgard."

"Not to your face."

Thor sniffed, but kept his attention on Bucky. "So, my honor injured, I demanded to know who dared speak so to me. And that is when she drew her weapon, turning against me the very forces I had once wielded across the realms against sundry enemies."

"I tased him," Darcy clarified.

"Struck was I by lightning," Thor pronounced loudly. "An ignoble defeat for the Lord of Thunder."

"Poor Thor," Darcy laughed and patted him on the arm. 

"It was a humbling day." He nodded and glanced again at Bucky and said, in his most serious, princely manner, "And when I first met her father, he did much the same. Though, I retained then the fullness of my power, and we fought a pitched battle until the Captain intervened." 

Bucky gave Darcy a long look. "Guess I'm lucky you were in a good mood when we met, huh?"

"I had my hand on my taser when I realized who you were," she informed him with a nonchalant shrug. 

Thor chuckled, delighted and unsurprised, and Bucky joined in with a quieter sound of amusement. "Ah, hell, doll."

"Too many people," she explained," plus, I didn't think I could pull it off with you so close."

"Nice," he said with a shake of his head.

"Hey," she grumbled, defensive, "I'd just got an earful from Nat and Steve about how super mega dangerous you were. But, you know, you talked to me and didn't try to murder me with your bare hands, so I thought talking was probably a better tactic. I'm way more suited to talking than superheroing, anyway."

"I know there has been some strife from the others concerning your meeting," Thor said with a considering frown, "but, clearly, your decision was the best course for all."

"Thank _you_ , Thor." Darcy held her hands out towards him, pleased somebody got it. 

Thor accepted that with a nod. "It's a tactic I've come to respect more in recent years. Loki was often able to talk us out of trouble, but as I was ever ready to use my might in any situation, I didn't always appreciate the skill." He stared at his beer for a moment before shrugging his massive shoulders. "I came to the understanding too late, perhaps."

That pronouncement sat heavily between the three of them, an uncertain silence, until Thor shook his head and smiled again. "But, what is done is done, and we three sit in good company." He raised his bottle to both of them. "Regardless of the paths we walked to arrive here, that is to be treasured."

"It is," Darcy agreed, and Bucky nodded though he was picking thoughtfully at the label on his bottle. 

"Tell me, Darcy, how fared —" Thor's inquiry was cut off by the sounds of a muffled argument coming from the living room. A second later, Jane stumbled into the room. Her hair was a sleep-mussed mess and she blinked blearily against the brighter light, but her gaze zeroed in on Darcy immediately. 

"You didn't tell me you were back," she grumbled as she shuffled around the table. "I woke up. I was worried."

"You told Jarvis you had Bifrost-lag, I wanted to let you sleep," Darcy told her, casting a quick look at Bucky, who looked like he was trying very hard not to go rigid, his head tipped down, his shoulders rising with a deep inhalation. Jane didn't notice, her normally sharp brain still fogged by sleep. She dropped into a chair next to Thor and propped her elbows on the table with a wide yawn.

"You're supposed to wake me up," Jane said with a little pouty whine. 

"I'm sorry. I was going to. Soonish."

"Soonish? What does soonish—" Her eyes finally caught on the other man at the table. "Oh. Hi?"

Bucky forced a thin smile and dipped his chin in greeting. 

Thor put a hand on Jane's back. "This is Darcy and Steven's friend, James Barnes."

"Oh." Jane straightened from her sleepy slump, her eyes traveling over his face, taking him in, analyzing, processing. "Bucky Barnes. We talked on the phone once. I'm Jane Foster, it's nice to actually meet you."

Bucky nodded again and cleared his throat. "Yeah, you, too." He shot Darcy an uncertain look, but she just shrugged back. "Darce talks about you a lot."

"Yeah?" Jane looked over at Darcy and gave her a raised eyebrow. "She's been uncharacteristically quiet about you."

"Jane," Darcy protested with a groan. 

"Left lots of _details_ out," Jane continued, still looking at Darcy while widening her eyes and tipping her head suggestively towards Bucky. 

"Don't even," Darcy warned. 

Pouting, Jane's shoulders drooped and she leaned against Thor. "Fine." She yawned again. "So your thing went okay?"

"It was fine. No problems."

"She punched a guy out," Bucky piped up. Darcy liked that he was making the effort to participate, though why he kept leading off with her punching out a guy, Darcy didn't know. 

Jane lifted her head, looking interested. "Did he deserve it?"

"Yes, Jane," Darcy huffed and rolled her eyes. "I don't just go around punching people all willy-nilly and shit."

"There was that one SHIELD agent in New Mexico," Jane pointed out.

"I didn't punch him."

"You threatened him with a wrench."

Bucky shook his head, amused, and muttered under his breath, "A wrench, doll?"

She pointed a finger at both of them and said, firmly, "Which is not punching." 

"Meh," Jane said with a shrug, then looked back at Bucky. "So what does she say about me when I'm not around?"

"Jane," Darcy protested.

Bucky laughed a little and picked at his beer label some more. "Lots of stuff, I guess. Jane and I did this, Jane and I went here, Jane says this, Jane likes that. Got two solid hours once on how you eat pastries."

"Darcy," Jane exclaimed, sounding scandalized.

"What? He was in one of his broody, stare out the window moods. I was bored. Also," she shot Bucky a glare, "it was like thirty minutes, max." 

"And that's all you could come up with?" But Jane was smiling now, and the rigid set of Bucky's shoulders relaxed again. Darcy glanced at Thor, who looked away from Bucky and gave her a reassuring smile. 

"Well, we'd just stopped at Krispy Kreme," Darcy explained. 

Bucky gave her a little smirk and told Jane, "Got the low-down on Thor's welcome back party."

"A fine party," Thor stated, sounding immeasurably proud. 

"And how her pops can't make hotdogs. If it makes you feel any better."

"It was a long road-trip," Darcy confirmed and Bucky nodded in solemn agreement. 

"When was this?" Jane asked with a frown.

"Just last week," Darcy told her with an off-hand wave. "Oh, but, Bucky here is my shiny new partner. Sanctioned by Phil and everything."

Jane's face twisted into a brief scowling grimace — Phil had a long way to go to earn her forgiveness for stealing her equipment and sucking her intern into a life of international intrigue and danger — but she shook it off and smiled. "Good. I hate you going out by yourself. And don't get all _you_ about it, I hate Thor going out by himself, too."

Thor nodded his agreement. "It is always better to have a trusted companion at your side." He gave Bucky another evaluating look, but seemed to find whatever he was looking for. "Yes, you will be fine partners." 

Jane kissed him on the cheek and stood up. "Yes, they will." She gave Bucky a narrow-eyed look, then turned it on Darcy before finally grinning broadly and alarmingly. "And, I am going back to bed now that you're home. But, can I talk to you in private for just a second?" She phrased it as a question, but the look in her eye said it wasn't optional. 

"Yeah, sure," Darcy sighed and stood up. 

"I shall retire, as well," Thor said, standing. He offered Bucky his hand again. "It has been a true pleasure to meet you, Bucky Barnes. I'm certain we shall see each other again."

Bucky, quick on the uptake, bypassed Thor's hand for the forearm clasp and nodded back. "Yeah, nice meeting you. And you, too, Doctor Foster."

Jane tossed him a smile as she dragged Darcy bodily out of the room. "Really great to meet you. Call me Jane. I'll give you Darcy back in a minute."

Alone now, Bucky still in the kitchen, Jane nudged Darcy further into the hall, then waited until Thor was out of sight before turning on Darcy and grabbing her shoulders. "Oh my God, he called you _doll_."

"He always does that," Darcy told her, trying to sound nonchalant about the nickname. She was still a little twisted up about her new partner, and wasn't sure if she was quite ready to have this conversation with Jane yet. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to Jane, in fact Jane was probably the best person to talk to, but Darcy needed a day or two to live with their newest new dynamic. 

Jane sighed and gave Darcy a little shake. "I love you, but I worry about you. I worry about you in an amazing variety of ways."

"I'm fine. Stop worrying."

"No. Darcy, very seriously here, that is a very good looking man. And he follows you around. And he calls you doll. Tell me you are at least _considering_ climbing him like an old oak tree."

Darcy stared at her friend for a minute, gaped really, before laughing. "Oh my God, what an image. Holy crap, Jane." She took a breath and shook her head. "As two fully grown women, who haven't seen each other in weeks, there has to be a better topic of conversation. I don't think this one passes the Bechdel test."

With a roll of her eyes, Jane let go of Darcy's shoulders and leaned back against the wall. "You want to talk about research? Fine. I'm going back to London next month. Are you in?"

"Oh, uh, I don't know. I could probably swing it. Let me look up the dates again and call Phil." And Fury. Oh, geez, she'd almost forgotten about him. Well, hell. 

Jane gave her a knowing smirk. "And I suppose Sgt. Barnes will be tagging along."

"You were doing so well," Darcy said with a sad frown, "you backslid there, kind of a lot."

Looking up at the ceiling, calling for patience, Jane took a deep breath. "You're young, live a little. Go out on dates with the hot guy who seems to like you, have fun. Fun that doesn't have anything to do with SHIELD or the Avengers. You literally _never_ do that. That, that right there, is the root of my worry. Or one of them. It's really more a tangled rootball."

Darcy gave her an incredulous look. Jane was right, there must be a Bifrost lag, her head was way too far in a weird place for it to be regular sleepiness. "Jane, I love you, too, but I am a Stark, I've lived more than a little," she reminded her friend. "And like before I was 18, even. I was jet-setting at twelve."

"You were not."

"Kinda."

"Please," Jane scoffed with a roll of her eyes. 

"Which of us has actually been kicked out of a foreign country?" Darcy raised her hand. "Also, how does Bucky not fall under the heading of SHIELD or Avengers?"

Jane gave her a 'duh' face. "Because he's not part of either of those. Wait, is he?"

"Well, not technically, I guess."

"Right, so. What's the hang-up?"

"How do you know there is a hang-up?" Darcy challenged. 

"No hang-up?" Jane's face fell. "And you didn't tell me?" 

Darcy pressed a hand to her forehead and groaned, "Oh my God."

"I thought we were friends. Don't friends tell each other these things?"

"He asked me out dancing. He was stoned out of his mind at the time. I thought that was all it was," Darcy hurried to explain. 

Eyebrow shooting up, Jane leaned forward, eager to hear the story. Jane was a focused, driven, logical scientist, and an embarrassingly soppy romantic. "It wasn't?"

"No," Darcy sighed. "He's asked a few times since."

"And you haven't said yes? Darcy, Darcy, look at your life choices," she cried in despair. 

"I did say yes! We've just been busy. Bad guys, Hydra? Ringing any bells?"

"And you can't go dancing in between stuff? That's how people live life, Darcy. In between other things."

"Jane, you saw him," she hissed under her breath. "I mean, he's a million times better than he was a year ago, but he still has a hard time around new people."

Jane sighed and nodded. "I know. You've said. He was trying, though; I could tell."

Darcy nodded and glanced over Jane's shoulder towards the kitchen. "He really is. It's all complicated, too, because dad is just not on board with Bucky at all. And, I get it. I really do. It's such a mess. I fucking hate Hydra."

"Evil Nazi bastards," Jane agreed soberly. "Well, I know I've given you a hard time about SHIELD, but, I'm proud of you. I just worry, that's all. I'm glad you have Bucky with you." 

"Me, too. Honestly." Darcy gave her a crooked smile. "I wasn't going to keep it from you, it's just been really confusing. I did not expect to be hit on by the 90-something-year old assassin. Really not at all. Plus, I'm like the only person he's ever around. I wasn't sure if there was some weird Stockholm Syndrome thing going on."

Jane barked a laugh and shook her head at Darcy. "Stockholm Syndrome?"

"Well, I don't know," Darcy huffed. 

Leaning forward, Jane gave her a quick hug. "Well, then, take it slow, but a night out with a person you like can be fun without being some big thing."

"Yeah," Darcy agreed, hugging Jane back. "So, go back to bed. I think the analysis on Bucky's arm should be done soon. We can talk tomorrow. About non-boy things. We can talk about science! and Asgard, and I don't know, a new name for my strike team."

"Your strike team?"

"I'm totes part of a strike team now." Darcy gave her a double thumbs up, but Jane looked skeptical. 

"'Kay." She shook it off and yawned. "Do you need me to take a look at anything?"

"I don't think so." Darcy thought about it for a moment, but none of the arm tech was really in Jane's area. "Yeah, it's more engineering, I think. And neurology."

"Okay, well, let me know if you need anything." One last quick hug, and Jane waved good night. 

"Darcy," Jarvis called as Jane left, "the analysis of Sgt. Barnes' prosthetic is complete."

"Wow, nice timing Jarvis," Darcy told him as she walked back into the kitchen. 

"I completed the analysis ten minutes ago, but did not wish to interrupt your conversation with Dr. Foster."

"I don't know if I appreciate that or am irritated by that."

"Do let me know when you decide."

"Funny, J," she muttered and entered the kitchen. Bucky was standing by the windows staring out at the city below. 

"You ready to go back to the lab?"

He turned his head and smirked. "Do I gotta?"

"Nah, no big. We'll just wait and see what Hydra wants to do with their little Trojan horse chip in your arm. No problem," she waved it off with a casual air. "It'll be a fun surprise, I'm sure."

"Geez, with the lip," he snorted. "Alright, alright. Can I get another beer before I go?"

"Sure. My fridge is your fridge," she waved a hand to the appliance and leaned against the counter to wait for him. 

"So, Jane seems pretty okay," he commented as he opened the fridge and stared at the vastness of the inside for a moment before shrugging the wonder off and reaching for a beer. 

"Jane's great."

"Thor, too, and Banner."

"Yep," Darcy agreed evenly, shaking her head when he offered her another beer. 

"Was, uh, was Thor right, that I made things hard on you?"

Watching him stare at the bottle in his hand, not looking up at her, Darcy couldn't help the little smile. It really was sweet of him how he worried about that. It was getting a little old, but still sweet. "No. I mean, he wasn't wrong, but you didn't make things hard on me. We've talked about this before."

"Yeah. You're gonna do what you're gonna do."

"Pretty much," Darcy agreed. 

He did look up then and smiled at her. She smiled back. 

Nearly a year ago he was a broken shell of a man on a park bench; lost, destroyed, rubble in human form. Even today, there were still pieces missing, and big, ugly cracks and chips in his mind and soul, but he could smile again. God, he could smile again. That was worth everything. 

"So, what's your pops going to say when he finds out I was here?" He asked casually. 

"Why are you so worried about dad?" He brought Tony up way too often. 

"Well, he's your father." He shrugged. "You love him, he loves you. I think I've got a long way to go to get on his good side. Plus, he's got that armor. Just need to know if I ought to be prepared to take that on." He tossed her another smile and a raised eyebrow. 

"He knows that would piss me off. You're safe. Well, from the suit, probably. I mean, he's plenty dangerous enough on his own."

Bucky made a skeptical sound in the back of his throat. "I think I could take him."

"He's the guy who built that armor," she reminded him. "You'd better sneak up on him, then. He's short but he's wily. Don't give him any time to think — as soon as that happens, you're in trouble. Plus, he's got a giant green bestie. So, make your move when Bruce isn't around."

Bucky frowned and laughed disbelievingly. "There's something not right about you giving me tips on taking out your pops."

"If you think I don't have at least five plans and three backups, you know nothing about me." She pushed off the counter and waved him out of the kitchen, starting the walk back down to the med bay. 

"I can't tell if you're joking or not," he said, giving her an amused but baffled look.

"Two plans and a backup involve robot armies. Okay, so, one of my backups hinges on my brother becoming a supervillain with a pack of reanimated dinosaurs, and he's just started his grad studies, so I've got to kind of wait on that one. Call it a long-term plan."

"Sure," he said, his tone mild.

"Hey," she clicked her fingers at him. "I'll add you into the mix. Sub-plan until I have time to work through the details."

He grimaced and said, pleading, "Maybe you ought to leave me out of this."

"Sub-plan," she insisted, those were backups to the backups. "No worries. Jarvis!"

"Yes, Darcy?"

"New file under Operation: My Dad is a Lunatic. Sub-plan, The Winter Soldier."

"File created," Jarvis responded, sound like he wished he could sigh. "I should tell you that Mr. Stark discovered your files and has ordered me to quell any of your coup attempts." 

"Well, that'll just make it fun," Darcy said with an entertained, but dangerous, grin. 

"But, how many of your plans involve Jarvis?" Bucky asked with a chuckle.

"All of them, sir," Jarvis responded. "Excepting Apatosaur Apocalypse."

"Oh," Darcy exclaimed with an apologetic frown. "Did I forget to you add you to that one? Sorry, I'll totally fix that."

"I'll just add myself in," Jarvis assured her. 

"There ya go." Darcy and Bucky stepped into the lab and she waved him back over to the exam table. 

"You're a little terrifying," he muttered with a considering and admiring look. 

"Finally, somebody recognizes it." 

"Recognizes what?" Bruce asked, looking up from the expanded view of the problem chip in Bucky's arm. 

"That I'm terrifying."

"Oh." He looked back down at the schematic and turned it a little, bending forward to look more closely. "I always knew that."

Bucky laughed, a real genuine, out-loud laugh and he hoisted himself up on the bed. "He's got your number, doll."

"She hugged me." Bruce said, glancing over at Bucky, and shook his head. "She'd just realized I was the Other Guy, too, and she hugged me. Who does that?"

"The same girl who sits down next to a Hydra assassin, I guess," Bucky acknowledged. "And tased the God of Thunder."

Bruce nodded sagely. "See? Terrifying."

Darcy preened and flipped her hair. "If you guys are done flattering me outrageously, can we get to Hydra's toy surprise already?"

Bruce shrugged. "Sure. I think we can disable it from outside. We'll need to hook up the arm again, but Jarvis and I have worked up a piece of code that will, essentially, fry it."

"So, what is it, though?" She pressed, curious about the whats and whys. 

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Bruce stared at the schematic. "I don't think they ever finished it. Or, it was a work in progress. Meant as an override to the arm, but we think it would also send a shock to his neural system, replicating, or at least, starting the process they used to control him."

Darcy felt herself go cold and she swallowed heavily. "Kill it. Kill it now," she demanded with desperate and vehement urgency. The thought of _that_ in his arm, a small piece of profound cruelty, made her sick. 

Bruce gave her an understanding nod and glanced over at Bucky. "Sergeant?"

"Do what the lady says," he replied firmly. 

Bruce's smile was grim and hard. "With pleasure."

They hooked the arm back up, and once Jarvis uploaded the code and sent a narrowly-directed, slow-building surge of power, it was a matter of waiting for the combination to overwhelm the chip and reduce the thing to so much vestigial slag in the arm. 

"Let me know if you feel any pain," Bruce murmured.

"Sure," Bucky agreed, but there was a lazy quality to the agreement, one that told Darcy he'd cut the arm off himself before he did any such thing. She gave him a hard stare, but he pressed his lips together in a thin, resolved line. 

"Whatever," she murmured to him. "It's your arm."

"It is."

The procedure took maybe fifteen minutes, and about halfway through, Bucky jerked slightly and drew in a strained breath. Bruce kept a careful eye on him throughout, stationing himself near the Soldier, keeping watch on the other man's vitals — and mental condition no doubt.

"You could have just told me," he muttered to Bucky. 

Bucky gritted his teeth, tendons standing out on his neck, lines of strain across his forehead. "I want it gone."

"We might have tried a sedative."

"No."

Bruce let it go without a fight, and continued his vigil until finally Bucky let out a long shaky breath and slouched back. 

"Done?" Bruce asked. 

"Yeah," Bucky panted out and rubbed a hand across his eyes. "Don't feel it."

"Good."

"Idiot," Darcy chipped in. 

Bucky glared, Bruce shook his head, and for another couple minutes the lab was silent, until Jarvis announced the chip had been disabled. 

Darcy stripped the leads from Bucky's arm again and gave him a thump on his flesh shoulder and crowed, "Hydra defeated yet again. Suck it, snakes. Booyah!"

"Kinda small victory."

"No, Barnes, the biggest one yet." He gave her a skeptical look, and she shrugged. "Okay, second, maybe third. Defeating the Red Skull was pretty big. And that thing with the helicarriers wasn't bad. But, this one's up there. Trust me."

Giving in to the impulse, Darcy leaned up and kissed his cheek. He blinked at her, surprised for a second, and then his lips quirked up in a self-satisfied, triumphant smirk. 

Bruce cleared his throat behind them and Darcy turned to see him staring at the wall. "I take it I'm not telling Tony about this visit?"

"It's fine," Darcy sighed. She wasn't entirely looking forward to the conversation, but she'd promised Tony, and he'd promised to be rational. It would probably be something they'd both have to work on for a while, but it was worth doing. "I'll tell him tomorrow anyway."

Bruce looked relieved. "Okay. Well, Sergeant, it was a pleasure. I'll go through everything, and give you a report in a few days. Or," he glanced at Darcy, "give Darcy the report for you? If that's okay?"

"Sure. Works for me," Bucky assured him. Hopping down off the bed, he held out a hand to Bruce. "Thanks, doc."

Bruce blinked at the hand for a moment, then ducked his head almost bashfully, and took the outstretched hand for a quick shake. "Glad I could help."

Bucky picked up his jacket and pulled it on, before looking to Darcy. "Mission accomplished, I guess."

"Yep." She grinned and stepped up next to him, threading her arm through his. "I'll walk you out."

They said goodnight to Bruce and then headed to the elevator. 

"Feel better?" Bucky asked as the car started its descent. 

"Yep. You?"

"Yeah, better knowing, I guess."

"Always better knowing."

He nodded slowly and leaned back against the wall, looking a little worn, but relaxed. What a difference a few hours could make. And a few months. Patience, persistence, inner Phil murmured, and Darcy laughed.

"What?"

She shook her head. "It's been a long, strange year."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I know I'm still a mess."

She frowned; it wasn't her intent to get him all morose. They'd been doing so well lately, too. "Barnes—"

"Nah, it's true," he waved off her concern. "My head, sometimes it's such a jumble, I can't tell what's memories and what's nightmares. I get lost." He rubbed a finger against his lower lip and stared at the doors. "You, I don't know, you've helped me keep my feet on the ground, I guess. You didn't have to, but you did. It helped, helped knowing you were there."

"I'm glad," she said quietly. 

"Yeah. Now just, you know, you just gotta let me do the same sometimes, right?" He glanced down at her, his blue eyes intent. "I know you're juggling a lot, so let me help you. Partners, right?"

"Right."

Seeming satisfied with that, he let a sly smile play on his lips. "So, what're we gonna call our bar?"

"We're not getting a bar," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"We should get a bar," he pressed.

She groaned. "Bucky."

"Nah, think of it," he held out a hand, palm up, "it's a great cover."

Darcy snorted. "I thought you wanted to chuck the spy thing."

"Eh. I dunno, guess we could take some jobs. If we get bored," he said with an unconcerned shrug. "Plus, I think if the Director asks, you'll be out there anyway."

"Which Director?" She asked, her tone wry, and she watched him come to the realization that hit her an hour or so previously. Yeah, they'd got themselves in deep.

"Good point." He frowned down at her, puzzlement creasing his forehead. "How'd we let ourselves get talked into that?"

"We went all noble for a minute," she reminded him. 

"Damn us."

Darcy snickered and leaned back next to him. "Damn us," she echoed.

"Does SHIELD have a New York base?"

"Not anymore. It's a hole in the ground right now."

He nodded slowly, more to himself as he thought. "We get a big building, or a couple. Stick the SHIELD HQ under it."

"You can't be serious."

"Sure. I mean, come on, who's the Director going to go to for New York ops? You. You own a bar, maybe the building next to it, the building behind it. There's the gym, your auto shop. We get a block. Maybe with what we just stole from Hydra, we can start it up right."

Darcy craned her head to get a look at his face. "You _are_ serious, aren't you?"

"Completely."

"Holy crap," she moaned and laughed helplessly. 

She was still chuckling when the elevator let them out in the lobby and Bucky had to pull her out of the car. 

"You're thinking about it," he told her with a smug, knowing look. 

"I'm really not," she said stoutly. 

He smiled and threw his arm around her shoulders. "Yeah, you are. You've got that smart brain going. You're thinking it makes sense. SHIELD's gonna need a new place here, anyway. You want to fix SHIELD, what better way to start than to run the base, right?"

"Oh, God," she groaned and put a hand over her eyes, because, he was right. She was thinking it. It was one thing when it was just her out of the Tower, but the Tower was too flash, too much in the spotlight. Not the ideal spot for a shadowy intelligence organization trying to rebuild itself. And they were in no shape to rebuild the previous base in mid-town. She wasn't as sure as he was that Phil would put a base under her command, because, really, good lord, what a thought. But, if she owned the property the base was on—

"So, we get a place in Brooklyn—"

"The property prices are nuts in Brooklyn," she said, but her protest was weak. "The Bronx is cheaper."

"Who wants to go all the way out to the Bronx?" He scoffed and shook his head. "Nah, Brooklyn's better. Besides, now I'm saying we make Hydra pay for it. I bet the Director would be onboard."

"God," she breathed out again and shook her head. "Okay, okay, I'll think about it, okay?"

"Yeah, good." He pulled his arm off her shoulders and turned to smile down at her. "Thanks for sticking with me, Darce."

"No problem."

He shrugged and looked away, his bar-related amusement fading as they stood in the mostly empty lobby. "You put up with a lot for me, don't think I don't know that."

"It was worth it." And it was. The whole year had been change. Big change. Wild upheaval. But, in the end, here they were. She got him into the Tower. He met Bruce, and Thor, and Jane and he didn't bolt. The aching emptiness she'd seen in his eyes so often over their acquaintance, was fading. It wasn't gone, and maybe it never would be, but its edges weren't so sharp anymore. He wasn't all the way home, she knew that, but he had an anchor now. Something to hold him steady, some place to go, he wasn't alone. With time, he'd make it all the way, she was sure. Someday, he'd reach out a hand to Steve again, and then he really would be home. 

"You're worth it," she corrected herself. Bucky Barnes had been a good man, a man who fought to defend and protect. He'd been taken and twisted and driven from himself, but he broke free and started the long journey back to that good man. The reclamation of his mind and soul _was_ a victory over Hydra, and a big one. 

"Thank you," he said. 

"Thanks for coming in," she told him.

"Sure, wasn't any big thing."

Darcy laughed and poked him in the shoulder. "You're a good man, Bucky Barnes."

"Yeah?" He looked uncomfortable but he gave her a crooked smile. "And you're a hell of a dame, Darcy Lewis."

"Well, that is, objectively speaking, absolutely true."

He laughed and took a deep breath. "I'll see you later, doll."

Stepping forward, she pulled him into a hug and brushed her lips across his cheek again. "Later, Buck."

Giving her one last, cocky smile, he turned and left the building. She stood for a moment watching him go. 

A hell of a year. What an absolute hell of a year. From low-level SHIELD flunky, to one of the Director's trusted operatives. And not just Coulson's, but Fury's, too. That was just straight up bizarre. What was the world coming to? Chaos and madness, obviously. And like, totally running out of actually qualified agents. But, maybe it didn't feel as ridiculous as it would have just a year ago, before SHIELD fell. Maybe it wasn't as ridiculous. Sure, she could skip the being shot at thing, and the kidnapping by the extra evil Nazis thing, but she could handle it. She knew with certainty that she could handle it. More or less.

Darcy Lewis and Bucky Barnes were going to save the world, whether it wanted them to or not.

"Jarvis," she called, grinning and shaking her head at herself, as she started back to the elevator. "Start a file. We need to start looking for real estate in Brooklyn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More stories to come.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Ain't Gonna Drown](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6659560) by [10scheherazade01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/10scheherazade01/pseuds/10scheherazade01)




End file.
